The Lord of the Ringtones: The Ecommunity of the Ringtone
by ArcticWolfe
Summary: Parody. A study on how the quest would have been different had they had cell phones, cable TV, the internet, and cars. Many stupid jokes by two overtired geeks. Yay completion!
1. A Long Expected Chatroom

DISCLAIMER: If we were to write down everything we have to disclaim in here, this whole first chapter would be one long disclaimer. So let's just say that if you recognize it, we don't own it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Welcome to _The Lord of the Ringtones, _coauthored by Arcticwolfe and Christina TM (fanfiction . net /u/110877/). It was a rather extensive project we took upon ourselves several years ago, and we hope that you enjoy it as much as we have. The story is a mix of the _Lord of the Rings _movies and the books. Other books and movies also play a role in this train wreck—oops, sorry, story—you're about to read.

There have been whispers of rumors of a notebook containing the first two chapters of a sequel. It might appear here eventually, though we offer no promises. As the authors no longer live in the same state most of the time, odds of its completion are low.

We would also like to add that, as we have 15 chapters that employ the same kind of humor, you will undoubtedly get bored of it after a while. I know I would. Don't feel obligated to read all of it at once; just read a few chapters and come back later. Do feel obligated to read chapters 1, 9, and 10, as those are my favorites.

Edit 9/19/09: Updated Author's Notes, removed a few extraneous line breaks, added a few horizontal rules.

RATED: PG, mostly just so we don't get in trouble with parents.

SPECIAL THANKS: We want to thank EruDaughter and our friend Courtney, both of whom have helped and encouraged us in this monumental task.

* * *

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES

_Three Ringtones for the Elven-Kings under the sky,  
Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone  
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die  
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne  
In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie  
One Ringtone to rule them all  
One Ringtone to find them  
One Ringtone to bring them all and in the darkness  
In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie_

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER ONE – A LONG-EXPECTED CHATROOM

When Bilbo Baggins announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much explanation of the fact that he was indeed not turning 7, but in fact had lived eleventy-one years (as many in the Shire were nerds who understood binary better than normal numbers). Nonetheless, every computer in Hobbiton had at least 10 IM windows open at a whack, and phone bills were up by 12.

Much of the conversation between the hobbits regarded his incredible age. Bilbo had aged to 111 years, and looked not a day over fifty. As far as everyone in Hobbiton knew, he had never undergone plastic surgery or had a BoTox injection. "What's his secret?" All the ladies wanted to know. They would speculate endlessly, but the truth of Bilbo's seemingly indefinite youth was something they would never guess. His long life and remarkably youthful appearance was entirely attributed to a single item in Bilbo's plethora of techie things. The item in question was the One Ringtone of Power. This Ringtone slowed Bilbo's aging and gave him an extra-long life. It also made him completely immune to annoying sounds. This immunity earned Bilbo full-time work at the Squalling Little Brats daycare center.

Bilbo lived at Bag End, along with his nephew Frodo. Frodo had been living with Bilbo since Frodo's parents died on a Duckboat Tour on Lake Evendim. During the tour, the guide (who had always been considered a few cartridges short of an inkjet printer) let tourists try driving the boat. Frodo's mother, Primula, jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, her driving skills were somewhat less than stellar, and she drove the boat into the pillar that held up the Brandywine Bridge (which, contrary to what its name implied, was not on the Brandywine River), killing all 18 people on the boat. After his parents' rather untimely passing, Frodo came to live with Bilbo at Bag End.

As Bilbo's birthday approached, email forwards (rumored to have been started by one Samwise Gamgee) telling of fireworks at the party were rampant. Questions about its validity were raised, especially pertaining to the last line, which read "Send this to 10 people by the end of the day or something very bad will happen to you. Lily Proudfoot thought this was just a prank and decided to delete it. She fell off a ladder later on and broke 12 bones." While this unfortunate incident had befallen Lily Proudfoot, she denied that it had anything to do with the email.

* * *

All questions were soon answered when a white Hummer with a license plate that said "SHDWFAX"-for that was the vehicle's name-drove up through Main Street.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Shouted the hobbit children as they ran behind the Hummer. "Show us a firework, Gandalf, please!" They begged, and then screeched in delight as a green carbon monoxide dragon shot out the tailpipe.

Gandalf chuckled at the children's delight as he pulled his Hummer over to the side and pulled out his laptop computer. He connected to the Internet and-hoping he wasn't in a bad cell-wrote an email to Bilbo.

From: grayhame at

To: master at

Subject: PARTY

**Bilbo:**

I will be arriving today at 3 PM. Pleas know when I knock

That I am NOT the Sackville-Bagginses.

Ride on,

Gandalf

Bilbo sat down at his computer to check his email. He gaped at the spam flooding his inbox. "'Lose fifty pounds in one week!'" He grumbled, reading the subject line of his first email. "'Earn a million pieces of gold in two minutes without working!' 'Get out of debt!' 'How to succeed in business without really trying!' Viagra, Cialis, Levitra! There is nothing of use to me here!" He was about to sign out when he saw one potentially worthwhile email.

grayhame at PARTY

Bilbo opened and read the email. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was almost 3 PM. _Gandalf shall arrive soon, _he thought just as there was a knock on the door. "Gandalf, my dear-" he began, but when he opened the door he saw that it was not Gandalf at all, but rather the hopelessly bothersome Sackville-Bagginses, Otho and Lobelia. "I'm not home! This is a prerecorded hologram!" He yelped, slamming the door. Seconds later another knock came. "Otho! Lobelia! Go away!" Bilbo barked. He'd had more than enough of his relatives, and the Sackville-Bagginses were the worst.

"They already have," a deep, familiar voice boomed. "Let me in!"

"Oh, Gandalf!" Bilbo gasped. "I'm so sorry!" He quickly opened the door. "Come in, come in! Please forgive me; I thought it was those blasted Sackville-Bagginses."

"That much I gathered," Gandalf said, removing his tall pointed hat and entering the hobbit-hole. "You are forgiven."

"Can I get you something?" Bilbo took the wizard's staff and hat. "I have some old wine, if you'd like. Or coffee, perhaps? I can even cook a steak if you want. A big, juicy-"

"Coffee will be fine, thank you," Gandalf said politely.

"Very well then!" Bilbo said good-naturedly, pouring Gandalf a cup of coffee and getting a bag of potato chips.

The two old friends took a seat at Bilbo's table and stared at the hobbit's screensaver. It was the rather annoying sort with a black background and white dots rushing towards the front. It gave one the impression of staring out the front window of a spacecraft.

"What a nauseating screensaver you have," Gandalf observed.

"Really?" Bilbo asked. "I am very fond of it, and of all the many screensavers of the Shire. But I think I need a vacay."

Gandalf eyed his friend. "So you mean to go through with your plan, then?"

"I do," Bilbo answered with certainty. "I've had it in my PDA for months and I've not deleted it. I'm going to have my fun on Thursday. Who's gonna laugh, I wonder?"

"We'll see," Gandalf said patiently.

* * *

All week, the Strong Backs & Weak Minds Construction Company had been setting up tents around the Shire. Some of these tents housed big screen TVs so the men could watch football and the kids could play PlayStation. The women had other big screen TVs set up with chick flicks and massaging chairs. Those who cared for none of the aforementioned activities were breakdancing. Coolers everywhere held soda and beer. A good deal of the men were barbecuing.

Near the big screen TV that showed a football game, Miggenand Daisy Chubb were arguing over what to cook. "We need to have chicken for those who don't eat meat!" Daisy insisted.

"Hamburgers. Hot dogs. Chips." Miggensaid simply, putting some burgers on the grill.

"But what if they don't like it?" Daisy asked shrilly.

"Hamburgers. Hot Dogs. Chips," Miggen repeated.

"Not everyone eats meat, you know!" Daisy pointed out.

"Oh, Mother," sighed Harry, the littlest Chubb. "Who ever heard of a hobbit that didn't eat meat?"

Daisy's response was drowned out by the menfolk's cheers. The Gondor Vertically Enhanced had just scored a touchdown against the Rohan Indigenous Peoples.

"Oh, look, there's Merry and Pippin breakdancing," Frodo commented, pointing to his cousins Merry Brandybuck (whose real name was Meriadoc, but no one ever called him that) and Peregrin Took (whose nickname had somehow become Pippin).

"Well, at least they're not playing with Gandalf's fireworks," Samwise Gamgee (who was more often called "Sam") reasoned.

"Do you remember the last time Gandalf came?" Frodo asked. "Those two got into the fireworks and sent the entire Marine Corps from _Medal of Honor _after us!"

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, don't worry about that," Sam said. "That was years ago. Merry and Pippin are much more mature than they were back then."

"Quick! Hurry! Let's go!" Merry yanked Pippin off the breakdance-floor.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Pippin asked, looking over his shoulder

"Of course!" Merry tried to assure his little cousin. "What's the worst that could happen? We're going to launch the Army of Darkness out of Gandalf's tailpipe!"

"And how do you propose that we do such a thing?" Pippin asked as they reached the Hummer.

Merry took out a bottle labeled "Army of Darkness" and popped the hood with Gandalf's keyring. "Where did you get those?" Pippin yelped.

Merry grinned devilishly. "Haven't you noticed Gandalf looking for his keys?"

Pippin gasped. "How did you find them?"

"They have a Clapper," Merry explained. "All I had to do was walk around and clap twice every five feet until I heard a beep. We were breakdancing so it didn't look unusual. Now hurry, let's do this before anyone sees us."

"Have you seen my keys?" Gandalf asked Random Hobbit #50. Random Hobbit #50 shook his head pitifully. He was rather proud of himself. It was the best acting he would do in a long time.

_BOOM! _All eyes turned towards the south. There was Gandalf's Hummer, with the Army of Darkness crawling out of the air conditioning vents.

"My Hummer! My Hummer!" Gandalf cried, running towards his car.

"Oh, no!" Pippin gasped. "Here comes Gandalf, Merry, run!"

"I can't!" Merry cried. "The Army of Darkness has us surrounded!" Indeed, the two hobbits were surrounded by green, medieval-looking creatures.

"_YOU FOOLS!" _Gandalf bellowed as he stormed towards the car.

"Help us, Gandalf!" Merry begged frantically as a Soldier of Darkness tried to shoot out his eyeballs. He failed miserably, however, because he wasn't real.

"No!" Gandalf snapped. "Let this be a lesson to you!" With that, he wandered off with fireworks from _Star Wars, Pirates of the Caribbean, Spider-Man, _and _The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen _to entertain the hobbits.

* * *

After watching Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker duke it out, Bilbo decided that it was time for food and speeches (in that order, of course). When most had eaten their fill, Bilbo took his place in front of the hobbits and began his speech. Not being a very gifted public speaker, Bilbo had arranged for a teleprompter. That was a good move on his part, but having Merry and Pippin run it was not.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks..." Bilbo stopped and simply stared ahead. The crowd stared back.

"The cake is burning!" Merry hissed, pointing to Bilbo's birthday cake. It was aflame.

"Oh...dear." Pippin said. "I'll run the teleprompter; you put out the fire."

"I don't trust you to run this!" Merry yelped.

"OK then, I'll put the fire out and you run the teleprompter!" Pippin suggested.

"I _really _don't trust you to put the fire out," Merry said.

"Quick! Change the slide!" Pippin gasped, seeing Bilbo's vacant stare.

The cake continued to burn.

"And...the rest of you," Bilbo said, making a good recovery. "I thank you all for turning up to this little shindig to celebrate my eleventy-first birthday."

"Why don't you just say 111th?" A slurred voice called from the crowd.

Bilbo dutifully ignored the obviously inebriated hobbit. _Probably a Bracegirdle, _he thought. They were worse than most hobbits when it came to ale. "Eleventy-one years is far to short a time to live among such excellent and admiral hobbits."

"He's supposed to say _admirable," _Pippin said.

Merry stole a glance at the screen. "It says 'admirable'," he said. "Maybe he's going blind."

Still the cake burned.

"I have half of half of you halfway in my half-conscious half-thoughts half the time, and the other half I have half of half of you in my half-conscious half-thoughts more than half as much as half of you halfway deserve," Bilbo rambled.

"Was that our fault?" Merry asked.

Pippin looked at the screen. "Nope. It says, 'I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as much as you deserve.'"

"Oh," Merry shrugged. "Close enough."

The cake was still on fire.

Meanwhile, the half of the hobbit in the audience that was not asleep looked confused, having been able to get little out of that latest sentence besides the word "half." Some began demanding to know who had spiked the punch. No verdict was reached before Bilbo began again.

"I have decided that I need to take a vacay," he said. "A very long vacay. I do not mean to return for a very long time. This is the end. _I am going now. GOOD-BYE!" _

With this, a sound came from Bilbo's direction-_Deedeedee dee deedeedee dee deedeeedee dee deeeee_-it sounded like a cellular phone going off. Bilbo picked a phone off his belt, held it to his ear...and vanished.

"That was definitely _not _us!" Merry and Pippin declared.

The cake was now so engulfed in flames that not even a hobbit would eat it.

* * *

Bilbo stepped into his hobbit-hole and took the Ringtone away from his ear. He was now visible again.

"I suppose you think that was very clever of you?" Gandalf asked. He was standing—or rather, crouching—in the doorway between the foyer and the kitchen.

"Indeed I do," Bilbo proclaimed. "Did you see the looks on their faces?"

"There are many annoying Ringtones in this world, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said severely. "And none of them should be used lightly, this least of all."

"It was just a bit of fun!" Bilbo tried to defend himself, pushing past Gandalf. He opened his suitcase and began packing.

"You think everything has gone according to plan?" Gandalf queried.

"Yes, yes," Bilbo confirmed, putting a frying pan in his backpack. "But I must say I was surprised by that white light. Some trick of yours to distract everyone?"

"That? Oh, no," Gandalf said dismissively. "Swamp gas from a weather balloon was trapped in a thermal pocket and refracted the light from Venus."

"Oh," Bilbo said mildly, even though it seemed like an outlandish explanation. "As I was saying before, I need a vacay. A very long vacay. I don't think I'm going to come back." He stopped his packing and looked up. "In fact, I don't want to." He shook his head, and suddenly the usually spry hobbit looked like a knotted, weary oak tree. "I'm old, Gandalf," he said. "I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts."

"You have aged well," Gandalf admitted. "Is the rumor that you've never had BoTox or plastic surgery true?"

"Well, mostly," Bilbo said. "One BoTox, but don't tell anyone." He took a deep breath and went on. "I feel tired, like a gasoline engine running on fumes, or a computer running so many programs it's out of memory. I want to see mountains again, and find a quiet place with no IM where I can finish my blog. I have thought of a good ending for it: 'and he vanished from all society and lived happily ever after until he went off-line.'"

"That is a good ending," Gandalf affirmed. "However, I don't think anyone's going to read it. Your counter has been at 0 since you began."

"That's not true," Bilbo countered, zipping his suitcase. "Frodo has read some of it. At least twice. The counter is probably broken." He heaved his suitcase off the chair. "You will DirectConnect Frodo often, won't you?"

Gandalf nodded. "As often as I can spare the minutes. No free nights and weekends, you know."

"He would vacay with me if I let him," Bilbo said wistfully. "He offered to once. But I said no, he should vacay on his own. I'm leaving everything to him."

"Including your Ringtone?" Gandalf asked, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

"Yes, of course!" Bilbo said, getting his coat. "It's in the bubble wrap on the mantle." He stopped. "No, wait. It's...here on my belt." He took it off. "You know, I don't want to give it up," he said. "I think I'll keep it."

Warning bells went off in Gandalf's head. "I think you should leave it here," he said calmly. "No one takes a cell phone with them on vacay."

"Well, why shouldn't I?" Bilbo snapped. "It's mine! _I _found it! It came to _me!" _

"You've had that Ringtone long enough," Gandalf said gently, but firmly. "I think it should go to Frodo now."

Bilbo turned an accusing stare on Gandalf. "You want it for yourself!"

Gandalf decided it was time to use his sorcery and knock some sense into this hobbit. _"BILBO BAGGINS!" _He bellowed, making the room darker and himself appear taller. "Do not mistake me for a low-level lackey! I do not want to hurt you!" He lessened the effect and softened his voice. "I want to help you."

Bilbo dragged a hand over his eyes. "Oh, Gandalf! I'm so sorry!" He apologized. "But I felt _tres bizarre. _It would be kind of nice not to deal with the Ringtone anymore." He looked up at Gandalf and smiled. "I'm leaving it here."

"You have chosen wisely," Gandalf said approvingly. "Leave it here and give it to Frodo. I'll look after him."

Bilbo seemed to mull that over, and for a moment Gandalf feared they would have a repeat of the last two minutes. But the hobbit surprised him. "OK," he said. "I will." He took the Ringtone and hurled it across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed on the flagstone floor with a dull _thud. _It didn't even slide or bounce. "Well, I'm off!" He said, opening the door. "Good-bye, Gandalf!"

The wizard raised a hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Bilbo! Email me when you get to Rivendell!"

Bilbo nodded and left. As he did, Gandalf caught him singing an old Shire-tune:

_On the road again  
Just can't wait to get on the road again  
The life I love is making music with my friends  
And I can't wait to get on the road again  
On the road again  
Going places that I've never been  
Seeing things that I may never see again  
And I can't wait to get on the road again_

_

* * *

  
_

Frodo came into the hobbit-hole soon afterwards. "Did he go?" He asked Gandalf, referring to Bilbo. "His Mini Cooper isn't in the driveway."

"Yes, he left," Gandalf said. "He said he'd go, and go he meant. The time had come, so Bilbo went. He's left you all of Bag End."

Frodo's face fell. "I'd really hoped it was a joke," he confessed. "He talked about it for so long I thought he'd never really do anything about it." Frodo looked around Bag End. "You know, like cleaning this place up."

"Don't worry about it," Gandalf assured the youngster. "Like I said, he's left you all of Bag End." He placed the Ringtone in a bubble wrap bag and sealed it with duct tape. "Along with all of his possessions." He handed the packaged Ringtone to Frodo. "Keep it secret, keep it safe! I am going to bed."

As newly appointed Master of Bag End, Frodo felt it his agonizing duty to bid all of the guests farewell. Rumors of the reason for Bilbo's departure were spreading like wildfire. A few uninvited guests, namely the media, had turned up. Frodo disliked reporters a great deal, and it seemed all he could say was "No comment."

It wasn't long before limo's carrying VIHs (Very Important Hobbits) showed up. Being experienced professionals with the media, they had some good advice for Frodo when it came to giving vague but polite answers. Frodo was initially very grateful, but his gratitude lessened a great deal when the VIHs barged into Bag End and looked for things that would be of use to them. Not surprisingly-seeing as they lived in a world of limos and red carpets and the like-they found nothing interesting. They charged out, most of them spewing gibberish about lawsuits and leaving Frodo with an even bigger mess than Bilbo had. When asked about Bilbo's whereabouts, Frodo held up an obnoxious black shirt with white lettering that read: "PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE REASON PEOPLE LIKE ME GO ON VACAY." "I found this on his bed. Do you know what it means?" Frodo would ask innocently. The VIH would typically get very huffy at this point and leave.

There were a few items Bilbo had left to certain people, so Frodo let those people in. Every item was (naturally) bubble wrapped, and there was a Post-It note on each declaring the owner.

_For Adelard Took, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo_; on an iMac. Adelard was the Hobbiton's local techie. In addition to the iMac, Adelard also took various other technical items not marked for anyone.

_For Dora Baggins, in memory of a LONG AND PAINFUL CORRESPONDENCE, love Bilbo_; on a battery-operated paper shredder (with the batteries recently removed). Dora was 99 and had written several _Chicken Soup for the Hobbit's Soul _books, none of which Bilbo liked.

_For MILO BURROWS, hoping it will be useful, from BB_; on an answering machine. Milo never returned calls.

_For ANGELICA'S USE, from Uncle Bilbo_; on a gun rack. Angelica was a young Baggins with an affinity for firearms.

_For HUGO BRACEGIRDLE, from a contributor_; on an empty CD rack. Hugo was a great borrower of role-playing games, and worse than anyone in the Shire at returning them.

By the end of the night, Bilbo's hobbit-hole was significantly less cluttered, and Frodo was significantly more exhausted. Some obnoxious (and undoubtedly tweenaged) hobbit had started a chain letter saying that Bilbo's entire house was up for grabs (only if the letter was sent to 10 people within 10 minutes, of course). Many hobbits that had no business being there showed up to Bag End looking for free stuff. Post-It notes were switched and torn off, and anything that was unguarded or unclaimed left the home with a new owner. Fed up with his unwelcome guests, Frodo started a Text Message chain that said _more _free stuff was available at the Sackville-Bagginses (but only if the message was sent to 100 people by the next blue moon). The unwanted crowd dispersed, frantically sending the message on and trying to figure out when the next blue moon was. This was completely useless, of course, as there is no way to tell when a blue moon will come.

It took hours for everyone to find their bestowed items and leave. After chasing out the last hobbit, Frodo shut the door, locked it, and sat on the couch.

_Knock-knock-knock. _Frodo closed his eyes and gave a weary sigh. _Probably Lobelia wanting Bilbo's credit cards, _he thought. Lobelia had been convicted of identity theft twice, and Frodo suddenly had a horrid image of Bilbo speaking with Lobelia's voice on a Citi commercial. The knocking persisted, but Frodo was bound and determined not to answer.

"Frodo Baggins!" Gandalf's deep voice called, muffled slightly by the door. "If you do not answer, I shall drive my Hummer through your door all the way to the other side of the hill!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo bolted upright as if the chair had just thrown him out. "One moment!" He fiddled with the gazillions of locks on the door. Bilbo had always been paranoid. "There." He opened the door. "I'm so sorry! I thought it was Lobelia."

The gray-haired wizard stepped inside. "Then I forgive you," he said. "I just saw her, driving her old beat-up Subaru Loyale and trying to pilfer a credit card off Magnolia Boffin."

"She's been convicted of identity theft twice," Frodo closed the door. "I nearly used Bilbo's Ringtone to disappear."

Gandalf's eyes hardened. "Don't do that!" He hissed. "Frodo, that Ringtone is very dangerous. It's part of the reason I came back before leaving. What do you know of it already?"

"Only what Bilbo told me," Frodo said innocently. "I heard the story of how he got it."

"Ah, there are many accounts of that," Gandalf said. "Which did he tell you?"

"Not the one he told the dwarves and put on the blog," Frodo said. "He told me the true story when I came to live with him. He said 'the old wizard pestered me until I told him, Frodo my lad, so you ought to know, too.'"

"Really," Gandalf mused. "And what do you think of it all?"

"If you mean inventing all that about a present, I thought the true story much more likely. I couldn't see the point of altering it at all. It was very unlike Bilbo to do so, and I found it very odd."

"So did I, but odd things happen to people with such treasures, if they use them," Gandalf said. "Let it be a warning to you to be very careful with it. The Ringtone may have other powers than simply making you vanish whenever you feel like it."

"Bilbo said something about that." Frodo leaned forward in his chair. "It doesn't really make you vanish, does it?"

Gandalf shook his head. "A common misconception. It simply takes advantage of the reality that people using cellular phones are so common that the eye passes right over them. However, if the user wishes, it will make him truly vanish by using a substance called Quicksilver, which bends light around whatever it covers and makes it impossible to see it." Gandalf paused for a long moment before saying, "I have begun to wonder about that Ringtone since Bilbo left. Don't worry, but do take my advice and use it seldom, or, preferably, not at all. At the very least, don't use it in any way that will make others suspicious. I say again," the wizard leaned forward and Frodo was sure those blue eyes would burn holes right through him, "Keep it secret. Keep it safe."

"But what are you afraid of?" Frodo was beginning to get a little nervous.

"I'm not sure, so I'm going to hold my tongue for now. I might be able to tell you something when I get back. I'm leaving right now." Gandalf stood up.

"_Now!" _Frodo cried in dismay. "But you just got here! I thought you were sticking around awhile! I was looking forward to it. Things will be awfully lonely without Bilbo."

"I wanted to, but I have something to take care of," Gandalf explained. "I might be away for a very long time, and I will not visit the Shire openly again. I don't think people around here like me much anymore. They say I am a nuisance and a disturber of the peace. According to an email rumor that began circulating this morning, there is a plot between the two of us to get hold of your uncle's wealth."

Frodo groaned. "That must be Otho and Lobelia. How heinous of them. I'd give anything-including Bag End-if I could get Bilbo back." The young hobbit looked down at his hairy toes and said sadly, "I wonder if I'll ever see him again."

Gandalf laid a consoling hand on Frodo's shoulder. "As do I. I wonder about many other things. Take care of yourself and look for me especially at unlikely times. I shall come like a thief in the night. Goodbye!"

The haggard wizard pressed a button on his watch and his Hummer rolled up to the door. Gandalf opened the driver's side door and Frodo saw a young blond-haired girl. No sooner had he made those two observations than the girl was sucked back into the steering wheel.

"Wow!" Frodo exclaimed, amazed. "Does that come standard?"

"Sort of," Gandalf said. "It came with a black dude, but he kept getting pulled over. Farewell!"

Gandalf climbed into the Hummer and drove away. Frodo did not see him again for a very long time.


	2. Memory Fragments of the Past

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The inscription on the Ringtone was typed in Wingdings, which I don't think will show up here. This chapter has a reputation as one of the most boring in the book, but we tried to spice it up a little.

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER TWO – MEMORY FRAGMENTS OF THE PAST

The buzz going around Hobbiton was now even greater than before. Now 12 IM conversations were going on at once, and phone bills were up 15%. Some blamed Bilbo for the event, but most believed it was Gandalf's fault.

"The old wizard has brainwashed that poor little hobbit," proclaimed Magnolia Boffin, the Shire's psychiatrist. "If Gandalf would leave Frodo alone, perhaps the boy would grow some hobbit-sense." Many agreed, but there were those who dissented, saying, "Frodo's only just come of age. There's something wrong with a hobbit that has hobbit-sense at thirty-three years old."

Gandalf did not return for quite some time, and Frodo did grow some hobbit-sense. He also began to show Bilbo's leanings towards weirdness. Magnolia referred to it as "Grayhame's Syndrome." Frodo never went into mourning, and the next year he even threw a party for his uncle, even though the guest of honor was nowhere to be found. When asked, "Where is he?" Frodo just shrugged.

After awhile, the Shirefolk got used to a party every year. The rumors circulated by word of mouth, email, IM, text messaging, and DirectConnect, but none were proven either false or true.

After many years—seventeen to be exact—Gandalf reappeared. He came without warning, right as rumors were reaching their ultimate high. The wizard simply appeared one night as Frodo was IMing his cousin Merry. Merry had a terrible propensity for starting rumors, but insisted he had nothing to do with the latest one, which was that Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, was regaining power.

**FrodoofBagEnd: Merry, I don't even know who Sauron is. Is this another one of your rumors?**

**mischievousmerry11: no frodo its not i heard it from pip.**

**FrodoofBagEnd: Gotta consider the source.**

_Beep-beep! Beep-beep! _Frodo's Nextel DirectConnect sounded. He leaned over the desk to pick it up and saw "Gandalf DC" on the ID screen.

"Gandalf!" Frodo yelped out loud, hitting the PTT. "Oh, Gandalf, is it really you?"

The Nextel _bleep _preceded Gandalf's reply: "Indeed it is. I have been knocking on your door for the past five minutes, and if you don't answer I shall drive my Hummer right through the door into your hole and out the hill!"

A _ping _from the computer made Frodo look up.

**mischievousmerry11: Frodo r u there?**

_Bleep! _"Frodo?"

"I'm coming!" Frodo assured Gandalf. "Half a moment." He hurriedly typed into the computer:

**FrodoofBagEnd: Merry I need to go.**

Without waiting for his cousin's response, Frodo bounded up from the computer and yanked the door open. "Gandalf!" He exulted, embracing the old wizard.

"You look the same as ever!" Gandalf exclaimed, putting Frodo down.

"I could say the same of you," Frodo said. "What brings you here?"

Gandalf's demeanor suddenly switched from jubilant to urgent. "The Ringtone. Where is it?"

"I don't know," Frodo said. "Good golly, Gandalf, it's been almost twenty years! I'd nearly forgotten about it."

Gandalf grabbed Frodo's shoulders. "You must find it!"

_Mercy me! _Frodo thought. _He's gone mad! _"Why? What's so important about it?"

"Find it!" Gandalf bellowed.

Now thoroughly confused, Frodo launched a search for the Ringtone and wondered when Magnolia would be free so he could schedule an appointment for Gandalf. The wizard looked like he definitely needed it. The Ringtone was far easier to find than expected. It was hidden under the radiator by Frodo's computer. "Here!" The hobbit tossed the phone to Gandalf.

Gandalf took it and strode into the kitchen, where he tossed it into a sinkful of hot water. "What are you doing?!" Frodo exclaimed. "You'll ruin it!"

"If that is so, then this is not the Ringtone I think it is." He pulled it out, dried it off, and handed it to Frodo. "What do you see?"

Frodo turned the phone over in his hand. "A gold cell phone," he responded.

"Open it," Gandalf instructed.

Frodo obeyed. On the inside of the Ringtone was a screen with resolution that made HDTV look like a child's crayon drawing. There were crimson markings against an ebony background:

ïï®ï¥ï ïï©ï®ï§ï ï´ï¯ï ï²ïµï¬ï¥ï ï´ï¨ï¥ï­ï ï¡ï¬ï¬ï¬ï ïï®ï¥ï ïï©ï®ï§ï ï´ï¯ï ï¦ï©ï®ï¤ï ï´ï¨ï¥ï­ï®ï ïï®ï¥ï ïï©ï®ï§ï ï´ï¯ï ï¢ï²ï©ï®ï§ï ï´ï¨ï¥ï­ï ï¡ï¬ï¬ï ï¡ï®ï¤ï ï©ï®ï ï´ï¨ï¥ï ï¤ï¡ï²ï«ï®ï¥ï³ï³ï ï¢ï©ï®ï¤ï ï´ï¨ï¥ï­ï®

"There's some kind of markings," Frodo said. "I can't read it."

"Not many people can," Gandalf said. "It is the language of Mordor."

"Ah, figures," Frodo said. "I flunked that in high school."

Gandalf smacked him upside the head. "You fool! This is a serious matter! It translates to:

_One Ringtone to rule them all, One Ringtone to find them. One Ringtone to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. _

Gandalf took a deep breath. "This is the Master-Ringtone, the One Ringtone to rule them all. This is the One Ringtone the Dark Lord Sauron lost many years ago, to the great lessening of his-and its-power." He leaned closer to Frodo. "But _he must not get it!" _

"This little thing?" Frodo looked down at the Ringtone he held. It made a sound; _Deedeedee dee deedeedee dee deedeedee dee deeeeee. _"How did it come to me?"

"Ah." Gandalf said, dropping onto Frodo's couch. "That is a very long story, and if I were to tell you all of it we'd be here forever. It started in the Dark Ages.

"Once upon a time there lived the Dark Lord Sauron. The rumor Merry shared with you is true: Sauron has indeed regained much of his former power. Currently, he is holed up in the great iPod of Mordor, and day by day he is becoming stronger. He wishes to take over Middle-Earth, but only lacks one thing." Gandalf's eyes drifted toward the Ringtone.

Frodo's blue eyes widened innocently. "The women's vote?"

Gandalf scowled. "No, you _schmuck!_ The One Ringtone."

"_This _One Ringtone?" Frodo yelped. "How do you know it's _this _One Ringtone? Aren't there other One Ringtones it could be?"

Gandalf was now feeling more than a little annoyed. "If there was more than one, it wouldn't be the One Ringtone, would it? Let me continue:

"A long time ago in Eregion, many Ringtones were made by the Elves. Some were more powerful than others. Those just rang like normal phones. But there were others that had special sounds, and they were powerful. Some of the Ringtones had a special effect. Their sounds were such that the wielder could annoy any person into submission. Three Ringtones were given to the Elves. Those sounded like the 1812 overture. The seven for the Dwarves say, 'hey! Somebody answer the phone!' The nine for mortal men play _Sing, Sing, Sing. _

"Sauron made the One Ringtone. It is the Master-Ringtone; without it the others are null and void. Mortal men are power-hungry, so the Nine ensnared them and they became corrupted. They are Tonewraiths now. That means they are Sauron's servants. They haven't been around much lately, but as the Master's power grows, they may begin to ride again. Sauron does not know where the Seven and the Nine are. The Seven were hidden, and the Nine...well, I'm sure it will make the email rounds soon enough. It doesn't matter to him where they are anymore. All he needs is the One." Gandalf's eyes were now fixed on the Ringtone. "He is seeking it," the wizard murmured, more to himself than Frodo. "All his thought is bent on it."

Frodo was now totally lost. "So...how was the Ringtone taken from Sauron if he is so powerful?" He asked. "Or did he just lose it?"

"No, it was taken," Gandalf said. "That's another story: Back before the Elves got soft, their desire to defeat the Dark Lord was greater. The men of Westernesse jumped on the bandwagon, and they sent the Dark Lord out feet first. Everyone wants to claim the credit, but it was actually Gil-galad the Elven-King and Elendil of Westernesse. Then Isildur, Elendil's son, cut the Ringtone off Sauron's belt and in the process severed the belt itself. While the Dark Lord was distracted trying to pull his pants back on, Isildur escaped with the Ringtone to destroy it. Unfortunately, Isildur's childhood struggle with ADD came back to haunt him, and the Ringtone was dropped into the River Anduin."

"Why haven't I heard about this?" Frodo asked.

"Revisionist history," Gandalf answered. "Actually, that's not fair. You've never heard about it because the Ringtone passed out of all knowledge."

"How did Bilbo get it?" Frodo asked. It was just one of many questions racing around his mind.

"Another long story." Gandalf reclined on the couch and smoked his pipe. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..."

"I think that's the wrong story," Frodo cut in.

"Oh!" Gandalf corrected himself. "Right you are." He cleared his throat. "A long time ago on the banks of the Great River on the edge of Westerland lived a hobbitlike folk. Two of these were Smeagol and Deagol. They were brothers, and out in their backyard swimming one day to celebrate Smeagol's birthday. They saw the Ringtone at the bottom of their pool."

"How did it get there?" Frodo asked.

"They got their water from the fire department, and you never know what you'll find in there," Gandalf responded. "Anyway, to make a long story short, they fought over the Ringtone. Eventually, Smeagol drowned Deagol and made off with the Ringtone."

"Smeagol?" Frodo gasped. "I know who he is now! I saw him on _The Shire's Most Wanted." _

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "Thanks to the water, there were no fingerprints. But given that Smeagol was the only one there, it seems unlikely anyone else would have done it. The Ringtone poisoned Gollum's mind. He became unrecognizable and was referred to as 'Gollum' because when he coughed, he made an awful g_ollum _noise in his throat.

"Gollum had a nasty habit of speaking to the Ringtone. He called it his _'preciousssss.' _

"You say 'did.'" Frodo pointed out. "Is he dead?"

"No one knows," Gandalf said.

"You still have not said how Bilbo got it," Frodo said.

"Your uncle met Gollum on one of his journeys and unwittingly acquired the Ringtone," Gandalf said simply.

"How icky!" Frodo gasped.

"Yes, it is quite the sob story," Gandalf agreed.

"I can't believe Gollum used to be a hobbit, no matter how loosely the term is applied," Frodo said with no small amount of venom. "How atrocious!"

"Sometimes the truth is atrocious," Gandalf said.

"I find it hard to believe Gollum gave up the Ringtone, if it was that precious to him," Frodo said. "Did Bilbo take it from him?"

"Neither," Gandalf said. "Ringtones of Power have their own will. The Ringtone left Gollum. It wanted to go back to Sauron, but your uncle threw a monkey wrench into those plans when he found it. He didn't know what it was at the time and tried to call home on it. And that's how the Ringtone came to you."

"It must be destroyed!" Frodo yelped. He bounded into the bathroom and held the Ringtone over the toilet.

"Try!" Gandalf challenged. "Go ahead!"

Frodo froze, the Ringtone held in front of his face. _How could I destroy this?_ He thought. The Ringtone was such beautiful, lustrous, iridescent gold. Destroying it would be awful! Almost without realizing it, Frodo lowered the Ringtone.

Gandalf laughed grimly. "You see? The Ringtone is already starting to work on you, Frodo. And even if you had destroyed it, it wouldn't have done any good. The Ringtone was made in the boiling waters of Mount Doom in Mordor, and only there can it be unmade."

"Mordor?!" Frodo gasped. "I cannot go there! We'll just hide the Ringtone!" He began looking around frantically.

"The Ringtone cannot be hidden," Gandalf said gravely. "Remember the Tonewraiths?"

"Yeah, some Disney movie about a football team," Frodo said distractedly, still looking for a remote nook or cranny to hide the Ringtone in.

Gandalf made Frodo look at him. "That's _Remember the Titans_!" He corrected. "The Tonewraiths will come looking for the Ringtone if you hide it. They will find it and kill the Tonebearer."

"Even if I put it in Fatty Bolger's car?" Frodo asked. Fredegar "Fatty" Bolger was a renowned packrat and longtime patient of Magnolia Boffin's.

"Even there." Gandalf nodded.

"How about if I ship it there by FedEx Next Day Air?" Frodo asked.

"No." Gandalf shook his head, gray beard swinging. "The Enemy would get his hands on it that way."

The hobbit held the Ringtone out. "Then you can take it!"

"No!" Gandalf insisted. "I can't!"

"Gandalf, I'm _giving _it to you!" Frodo thrust the Ringtone closer to Gandalf.

The wizard shook his head. "Don't tempt me, Frodo!" He gasped. "Please understand, I would use this Ringtone to do good, but through me it would work such evils as you cannot imagine! It ,must be destroyed!"

"But that would mean taking it to Mount Doom!" Frodo squeaked. "I can't do that!" He looked pleadingly at Gandalf. "You are wise and powerful. Can't you _please _take it?"

"That is the very reason I can't take it," Gandalf said. "I will help you bear the burden, so long as it is yours to bear. You must leave the Shire and go to Mount Doom."

"_Alone?" _Frodo yelped.

"No," Gandalf said. "You may choose a companion, but be careful! Leave the name Baggins behind you; go as Mr. Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods. Be careful what you say, even to your closest friends! The Enemy has spies everywhere."

A sudden clatter sounded from the computer room. Gandalf and Frodo both jumped. Had someone been listening? "I'll handle this," Gandalf whispered to the frightened hobbit.

The sorcerer tiptoed into the computer room and saw one Samwise Gamgee huddled under the desk with the motherboard to Frodo's computer in his hand.

"_Samwise Gamgee!" _Gandalf bellowed, hauling the auburn-haired hobbit up by his ear. "What are you doing?"

"J-just fixin' Mr. Frodo's computer!" Sam sputtered.

"A bit late to be fiddling with Mr. Frodo's motherboard, don't you think?" Gandalf implored.

"Well, I'm a night person," Sam tried to defend himself.

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Gandalf demanded.

"No, sir, I ain't been droppin' no eaves!" Sam insisted. "I was just fixin' things and I couldn't help overhearin'-"

"What did you hear?" Gandalf grabbed Sam by his other ear. "Speak!"

"Nothing important!" Sam yipped. "Well, I hear about Ringtones, and Darth Vader or something that sounded like that, and hot water and the end of the world. But that's it!"

Satisfied, Gandalf set the repairman down. "You heard Mr. Frodo is going away?"

"Yes, sir," Sam stammered. "That's why I dropped everything. I was so upset!" He looked at Frodo. "Why must you go?"

"Because I have to," Frodo said sadly.

Gandalf leaned down toward Sam. "Master Gamgee, what do you have in your PDA for the upcoming months?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Nothing too pressing, sir."

The wizard smiled. "Good. You shall be Mr. Frodo's companion on his journey!"

Sam looked from Gandalf to Frodo. "Me, sir? Go with Mr. Frodo? Surely you can't be serious!"

Gandalf scowled. "I am serious," he said. "And don't call me Shirley!"

"Well...would I get to see the Elves?" Sam asked timidly.

Gandalf nodded.

"Yeehaw!" Sam whooped, jumping up in the air. Then he started to cry.


	3. Three's Company

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER THREE – THREE'S COMPANY

"Frodo Baggins, will you please go now?" Gandalf asked.

Frodo did not want to leave because he was watching a _Three's Company_ marathon that would not be over for two weeks.

"I will wait until autumn, after my birthday," Frodo said. "After all, I can't miss the season finale."

"Very well, but no later," Gandalf said. He knew full well that there was a _Wings_ marathon next, and if Frodo caught the first episode, they would be in the Shire for at least another good month.

"Meanwhile, take care, and don't give any hints as to where you are going. No chain letters, no cryptic away messages—"

"I know, Gandalf. But it would be rather difficult to tattle because I don't know where I'm going."

"I'll give you a GPS with Rivendell marked out. You should have no problem finding it."

"I've been so busy saying goodbye to everyone, I haven't really given it much thought. The truth is, I was thinking about just leaving and going somewhere random. Surely I'd get to Mordor eventually."

"Well, you wouldn't get very far. Chances of your simply happening upon Mordor are about the same as Bill Gates actually eradicating spam and the Blue Screen of Death," said Gandalf, fondly patting his Apple.

"I suppose you're right," Frodo said. For the sake of repetition, he added, "I shall leave in autumn, right after my birthday."

* * *

One summer evening (seasons were unpredictable in the Shire), an astounding, stunning piece of news hit the Hobbiton News Network. Paula Zahnbramble had an exposé for HNN.

"This week, Frodo Baggins sold Bag End to the Sackville-Bagginses at a bargain price. No one really knows why Mr. Baggins is selling his home. John Vausegirdle is at Bag End with your opinions."

The screen cut to a young, thin hobbit holding a microphone for an old, fat hobbit. "If you ask me, he's run out of money."

"I think it's a vast right-wing conspiracy," replied a collegian.

"What? Erâ€ Iâ€ uhh... ummâ€ err" Samwise Gamgee stuttered.

"I don't know, but it's not my fault," claimed an older, white-haired hobbit.

"Wait—Frodo had a house?" asked one thoroughly confused Peregrin Took.

"How should I know?" a teenaged hobbittess snorted.

"I hope he's keeping his CDs. The Sackville-Bagginses never lend me anything," Hugo Bracegirdle complained.

"Wellâ€ ermâ€ uhhhâ€ ahâ€ err" Sam continued.

"IT WASN'T ME!!"

The screen cut back to Paula Zahnbramble. "Thank you, John. That was touching. We did get an interview with Mr. Baggins shortly before he sold his house."

Now, in Bag End, Frodo was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair with a cup of tea and an obnoxious black shirt with white lettering that read: "PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE REASON PEOPLE LIKE ME GO ON VACAY."

"Yes, I am moving. Merry is looking for a nice new hobbit hole or a house for me. Real estate is up these days, you know. I think he found one, though."

Back in the studio, Paula was looking sympathetically into the camera. "So he has. Frodo will be moving into a house in Crick Hollow, beyond Buckleberry. It looks like he will be settling in for a while. Frodo's best friend, Samwise Gamgee, was unavailable for comment. For HNN, this is Paula Zahnbramble.

Gandalf stayed in the Shire until Frodo left, when he mysteriously disappeared under what the Hobbiton Police Department called "suspicious circumstances." No one cared. They were happy to see Gandalf go.

---

Obscenely early one morning (which, coincidently, marked the end of the _Three's Company_ marathon), Frodo and Sam gathered supplies that they would take with them to Rivendell.

Once they made sure they had everything they needed, including the Ringtone and Gandalf's GPS, had everything stowed in the trailer, and the trailer was attached to Frodo's midnight blue convertible Mustang (which, remarkably enough, was capable of pulling a multi-thousand pound trailer), they set off, singing:

_Round round, get around,  
I get around.  
Yeah  
Get around, round round, I get around.  
Get around, round round, I get around.  
Wah wa ooo  
Get around, round round, I get around.  
Oooo ooo ooo  
Get around, round round, I get around.  
Ahh ooo ooo  
Get around, round round, I get around.  
Ahh ooo ooo  
Get around, round round, I get around.  
Ahh ooo ooo_

"That sounds a bit like Bilbo's rhyming," Sam remarked.

"No, actually. It's by the Beach Boys," replied Frodo.

"Ah, I see," Then, they rode on in silence.

They had been driving for quite some time when they were stopped at a red light. Suddenly, the squealing of breaks, a disconcerting thud, and a rather loud, "Pippin! The brake is on the LEFT!" broke the silence.

With an eye roll, Frodo opened the door, slid out of his seat, and stalked over to his back bumper to survey the damage. Surely enough, it was a good several inches thinner than it should have been.

"Driving lessons?" he mused.

"Well, sort of," Merry admitted, climbing out of the passenger seat window.

"'Sort of' is right!" exclaimed Sam, examining the bumper.

Pippin, who had emerged from the car a while before, announced "Well! That wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad?! Mr. Frodo will have to get a new bumper!" Sam exclaimed.

"True, but at least our car still works. And yours too, of course," replied Merry.

Suddenly, the traffic light (which had been green for a while) turned red again. A vehicle that looked rather like a levitating rubber raft but was a good deal faster zoomed by. It will probably not appear later, could not help the hobbits in their journey to Mordor, and basically serves no purpose other than to poke fun at the car that many claim to have seen in the movie. The hobbits, who were inspecting Frodo's car, did not notice.

Unexpectedly (as "suddenly" was used last paragraph), the hobbits heard an ominous-sounding motor off in the distance. "Off the road! Off the road!" Frodo cried, tugging his three companions off the road.

"But my car!" Merry protested.

"Actually, it's Milo—" Pippin started, but Merry shushed him.

"_My_ car!"

The four hobbits huddled under the bushes. Everything became dark, and the shadows grew ominously longer. Dang lighting people. Frodo peaked through the bushes and saw black Dodge Viper. A large, dark figure with a blue and white nametag reading "Hello, my name is Tonewraith #6" climbed out of the car and peered through Merry's windows.

"He's searching Milo's car!" Merry declared in an indignant whisper.

"_Whose_ car?" Pippin asked pointedly.

"_My_ car!" Merry insisted.

"Merry, have you been stealing cars again?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Er, no. Well, maybe," Merry stuttered. "Just to teach Pippin to drive. I don't trust him with my car."

"_Whose_ car?" Pippin snickered.

"Quiet! Frodo hissed. The Tonewraith had now moved to searching his Mustang.

Immediately, the Ringtone went off. Frodo had a very strong urge to answer the phone. His hands were moving independently of his brain, and they took the Ringtone off of his belt and began to bring it towards his ear.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam pulled Frodo's hand down from his ear.

The Tonewraith looked up (or, as far as Frodo could tell, he looked up, seeing as he had no eyes).

Pippin pulled his TI-30IIx out of his pocket and threw it. The Tonewraith immediately got into his Viper and bolted after it.

"That will keep him amused for hours!" Pippin said gleefully.

"How?" Sam asked, perplexed.

"They have no eyes, but they can sense intelligence," Frodo explained. "I assume we can conclude that the TI-30IIx is more intelligent than all of us put together.

"Well then!" Sam piped up. "Why don't we have the calculator go destroy the Ringtone?"

The hobbits looked at the Tonewraith who was now thoroughly engrossed in the calculator's many functions.

"Because, Sam," Merry explained patiently, "TI-30IIx's are very cool, but they can't walk."

The hobbits climbed into Frodo's now slightly beat-up Mustang and left Merry's (or Milo's—they never had reached a conclusion as to whose car it actually was) car beside the road.

And a lot of long, boring driving transpired.


	4. In the Digs of Tom Bom

Author's Note—This is supposed to be chapter seven. We did indeed skip three chapters. They are part of the boring driving ensuing at the end of chapter three. We had a joke for one of those chapters, too. It'll probably be included in the Appendices, if we ever get that far.

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER SEVEN – IN THE DIGS OF TOM BOM

"Frodo, are we there yet?" Pippin asked in his annoying irritatingly-Scottish accent.

"NO!!" three very annoyed and irritated hobbits replied.

"Can I drive?"

"NO!!"

"Can I park?"

"Pippin, we don't even know when or where we're going to park."

"Well... when we do park, can I park?"

"NO!!"

"You never let me drive!"

"You can't drive, Pippin."

"...So?"

"So THAT'S why you can't par—"

WHUMP!

"What was that?" Sam demanded.

"Something that went 'WHUMP!'" Pippin astutely remarked.

Sam just glowered.

WHUMP!

"I think it was the car," Merry stated.

"Cars don't go 'WHUMP!', Merry," Frodo replied.

"Well, yours just did," Merry retorted.

"Drive faster, Frodo!" Sam warned, but it was too late.

A large tree branch was plummeting towards the driver's seat window. With a WHUMP!, the branch crashed into the door and lifted the car high into the air.

"AaAaAaAaAaAaAaA!!!" the hobbits screamed.

"I think... it's... a Walloping Willow!" Frodo panted.

"Walloping Willow? Isn't that trademarked, copyrighted, or somehow legalfied and taken?" Sam asked.

"No," Frodo patiently explained. "It's not a Whomping Willow. It's a Walloping Willow. Walloping Willows are not taken."

"But it goes 'WHUMP!'" exclaimed Pippin.

"WHUMP!" said the tree with a timing that is nearly impossible to achieve outside of literature or film.

"Precisely. It's a Walloping Willow That Goes 'WHUMP!' ®. What is there to not get?" Frodo smugly replied.

"I don't care what it is! It's going to kill us!" exclaimed Merry.

"It can't kill us yet. The writers don't want to deal with thousands of rabid 'Rings' fans demanding an explanation for their mutilation of the series," explained Frodo.

"Don't tell them that!" exclaimed Sam. "They don't know that only five and a half people will actually see their parody, and even they will still demand an explanation for their mutilation of the series."

"Oh. Sorry," apologized Frodo.

"WHUMP!" replied the Walloping Willow That Goes "WHUMP!" ®.

Crash! The Tree with a Too-Long Name dropped Frodo's car on its side and started wailing on it.

Suddenly, the hobbits thought they heard singing in the distance.

_Now whip it_

_Into shape.  
Shape it up,  
Get straight.  
Go forward,  
Move ahead.  
Try to detect it;  
It's not too late.  
To whip it,  
Whip it good._

The Tree Whose Name the Author Has Already Forgotten let a horrible shriek at the horrible song and shrank back into itself. Unfortunately for it, all it succeeded in doing was looking like a telephone pole.

"Help!" screeched the four hobbits pitifully.

"Hmm," the voice said. "Bad day to be you, eh?"

The hobbits glanced up through the wreckage. "Yes, it's an excruciatingly bad day to be us," Pippin confirmed.

"You do look rather unfortunate," the voice observed. "What seems to be the problem?"

"This big honkin' tree is wailing on my car!!" Frodo wailed, somehow managing to step out of character while his legs were pinned to the driver's seat by the steering wheel. The roof had been bashed in to the point that nobody could sit upright, so Frodo's head and upper back were atop Sam's lap. "I need to get out of here!!"

"Yes, I can hear the slashers plotting now!" said Sam.

"Can you get us out?" Pippin pleaded. He and Merry were also forced into uncomfortable closeness by the beaten metal.

"Yes, I suppose," the man said. "One moment." He pulled out the Jaws of Life—which he must have simply kept in his back pocket—and pried the car open to get them out.

"Your car is...dead," the man behind the Jaws of Life said. "And you are not." He extended his hand. "Tom Bombadil. My friends call me Tom Bom."

"Tom Bom?" Pippin's eyes lit up. "Like, Bon Bon? Pom Pom? Tom Tom? Fru-Fru—"

Tom Bom shook his head and looked at Pippin as if the hobbit had just announced that he had only eaten one breakfast. "No. Tom Bom."

"Can I call you Fru-Fru?" Pippin pleaded.

"NO!" four rather annoyed companions of Pippin exploded.

"So-_ree_!" Pippin pouted.

"Now I don't—now Frodo doesn't have a car!" Merry lamented.

"Good recovery, Merry," Pippin congratulated his cousin.

"Well, now," Tom Bom said, "It seems that you need a car. My wife is getting rid of hers—she just doesn't know it yet. It's Christine the Chrysler Crossfire."

Sam cleared his throat. "I don't mean to be ungrateful, sir, but I don't believe those have a backseat."

"Mine does," Tom Bom said.

The four hobbits glanced at each other worriedly, wondering exactly how stable Tom Bom was.

"I don't trust cars named Christine," Sam whispered worriedly.

No one answered, but it seemed to be the general consensus that Mrs. Bom's car was the only option. So they followed Tom Bom down the path through the woods, wondering why Mr. Bom was wandering about the forest. In the meantime, Tom Bom began to sing.

_Hey merry derry cherry ferry kerry berry dol!_

_Jerry terry lerry very zerry werry dol!_

_Xerry sherry terry plerry perry cerry dol!_

_Querry herry nerry rerry yerry erry dol!_

By the time they reached Tom Bom's house (which, coincidently enough, about coincided with the time that it was hard to come up with new –erry words), the hobbits were thoroughly frightened. A lovely elf-matron with platinum blond hair that must have come out of a bottle stepped outside.

"Come in, cuties!" she said warmly. "I am Whitegrape, daughter of the Reservoir." As the hobbits passed into her home, she spoke softly. "I know what you're thinking. He's always been like this. Thirty-seven psychiatrists have no explanation. You get used to it after a while," she sighed. She looked at her husband. "Shall I order pizza?"

"No, they'll only be here a little while," Tom Bom said, taking keys off the hook. "Here you go," he said, handing them to Frodo.

Whitegrape glared at her husband. "Are those _my_ keys?"

Merry snatched them out of Frodo's hand. "Not anymore!"

Getting the impression that they had already worn out their welcome at the digs of Tom Bom, the hobbits piled into the gleaming white Chrysler in the driveway. Scarily enough, Merry climbed into the driver's seat.

Tom Bom was in the doorway, watching the hobbits enter his wife's former car.

"You sure Whitegrape won't mind us taking her car?" Sam asked, rolling down his window.

"Naw, she won't mind," Sir Bom replied. "I'd give you mine, but I'll need it tomorrow. Big movie interview. I'll get a giant part. My only competitor is some elven chick, and she can't act."

"I see," said Frodo, wanting to get out of there. He thought he heard some ominous clicking noises. "Well, thank you for your hospitality, Tom."

"No problem. Anytim—hi, honey!"

As Merry's latest acquisition sped off into the sunset, Sam noticed in the rearview mirror a rather miffed platinum-blonde reservoir-elf standing in a rather suspicious position. As they rounded a corner and trees shielded their view of the Bom household, one sound drowned out all others.

BANG!

Shortly followed by Pippin, to Merry:

"Glock. Nine millimeter."

Tom Bombadil was never seen or heard from again.


	5. Foggy Mountain Breakdown

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER EIGHT – FOGGY MOUNTAIN BREAKDOWN

That night, the hobbits heard strange sounds, or so they thought. Perhaps it came from Christine the Chrysler Crossfire. It sounded like doors locking and unlocking. Everyone was nervous (especially Sam), but no one said anything.

The hobbits awoke at six in the morning and ate breakfast, during which they discussed the fate of Tom Bom.

"Whitegrape shot him," Sam stated somberly.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Pippin quipped, reaching for the bacon.

"You think he'sâ€ dead?" Merry asked with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I don't think Whitegrape wants him around anymore." Frodo took a bite out of his bagel.

Pippin took out his calculator. "I calculate a 98.4 chance that Tom Bom kicked it."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you throw that at the Tonewraith?"

Pippin shook his head. "I carry extras."

"Now that's just sick," Frodo announced.

"Perhaps," Pippin conceded. "But it's handy."

* * *

Having finished the first breakfast, the hobbits piled into Christine the Chrysler Crossfire (with Frodo driving this time) and began the long, harrowing trek up Foggy Mountain.

"Are we there yet?" Pippin demanded.

"Pippin" Merry said wearily.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" Pippin whined.

"Pip, do you see all of these rest areas around here?" Sam asked.

Pippin peered out the windows. "No."

"That's because _there aren't any!!_" San exclaimed in exasperation.

"But I really have to go!" Pippin's whining went up a notch.

"Pip—" Frodo started, headed towards anger.

Suddenly, Christine the Chrysler Crossfire screeched to a halt.

"What's happening?" Sam asked just as the car started sliding back down the mountain.

"AaAaAaAaAaAaAaA!!!"

Frodo stomped on the brakes repeatedly to no avail. Finally, he pulled the emergency brake, and the car slowed to a halt.

"I told you not to trust cars named Christine!" Sam announced.

"I still have to go to the bathroom!" Pippin said.

While the hobbits were groaning at Pippin, Christine was sneakily shifting the parking brake. Within seconds, she had careened down a side road. Frodo tried to pull the parking brake again, but, try as he might, he couldn't get it to budge.

"AaAaAaAaAaAaAaA!!!"

"We're all gonna die!" Merry screeched.

"I WANT MY MOMMYYYY!!!" Pippin yelled

"Mr. Frodo? I would like to tell you that I love you," Sam admitted.

"WHAT??" Frodo turned around with eyes ablaze.

"Dearly, not queerly, I mean," he added honestly.

Suddenly, Christine the Chrysler Crossfire screeched to a halt. Unfortunately for everyone, there was a tree between them and their potential stopping point which was too stupid to get out of the way of a speeding possessed car. It was now rather inconveniently located between the two front wheels of what had once been Whitegrape's car.

"Man," Merry commented. "That's twice in two days."

"Is that a record?" Pippin asked.

"Well" Merry stated. He never finished. He wanted a chance to drive his own cars on occasion, so he didn't want Frodo to know that it was actually number thirty-seven on his list. It was his first possessed car, however.

The four compatriots stood looking dismally at their wreck.

"Well, now what?" Sam asked.

"There's a rental place somewhere around here," Merry said, a mischievous glint lighting his eye.

"Yes, you would know," Frodo muttered.

Merry looked hurt, so Sam quickly intervened. "Where?"

"Over the mountain," Merry announced, seemingly getting over his offence.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin looked up at the mountain towering over them. _"Oy,"_ They said in unison.

* * *

Three hot, sweaty, and breathless hours later, the hobbits reached Apples & Oranges Rent-a-Car.

"Do they have lemons, too?" Pippin wanted to know.

"Shh!" Merry hissed. "Don't say that!"

They went inside and spoke to a salesman who, after a background check and license Xerox of Frodo, gave them the keys to a neon yellow Ford Focus.

"It's an atrocity to cars everywhere!" Pippin exclaimed as Frodo signed the last of the paperwork.

Merry scrunched up his face, peering in the car window at the fish-oil-tablet yellow upholstery. "Ugh. I won't even try to take a shot at this one," he muttered.

"And what does _that_ mean?" Sam pressed.

"What does what mean?" Merry exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one else heard. "I didn't say anything."

Sam just shook his head.

The hobbits piled into the Focus and drove off to Rivendell. "What's our next stop?" Pippin wanted to know.

"The Holiday Inn Express," Frodo stuck the key in the ignition. "In Bree."

"How far away is it?" Pippin demanded.

Frodo started the car. "We'll be there around seven. Why?"

"Because I need the bathroom!"

All three looked at there littlest compadre. "PIPPIN!"


	6. At the Sign of the Holiday Inn Express

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER NINE – AT THE SIGN OF THE HOLIDAY INN EXPRESS

The hobbits had been driving for several hours now and were approaching the border to Bree-land. "Ok, Pip, it's time to be quiet now," Merry advised his younger cousin.

"Why? What could they do to us?" Pippin asked innocently.

Frodo stopped the car and turned around. "Does the expression 'full body cavity search' mean anything to you?"

"No," Pippin replied.

The other three looked at each other, silently begging the others to tell Pippin exactly what a full body cavity search entailed.

HONK! A horn sounded behind them. Frodo moved up in the line to the window.

"Where are you from?" the border guard, a rather corpulent man who wore oversized glasses (which, for him, may have been just right) and looked as though he had not had a good haircut or shave for a good ten years, asked.

"The Shire," Frodo answered.

"How long do you plan to be in Bree?"

"Two days," Frodo said, erring on the safe side.

"Any weapons?" the guard asked.

"No."

"Agriculture?"

"No."

"What's in the trunk?"

"Luggage."

The guard opened the trunk to check before waving them through.

* * *

The next few hours were spent buying clothes for Merry and Pippin, who had joined the party at the last minute and, as such, were unprepared. At five o'clock in the evening, the neon yellow Focus rolled into the back parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express. Rolled. Steam had started pouring from underneath the hood a few hours back (fortunately on a hill), and Frodo didn't want to try his luck. As he put the car in park, several important looking mechanical objects fell out from the bottom of the car, and the steam darkened enough to be classified as smoke. Frodo wondered how good the Bree-land mechanics were as the merry quartet rolled their luggage into the Holiday Inn Express. Many strange people were there: diplomats, entrepreneurs, travelers, and other odd sorts.

The man who ran the Holiday Inn Express was named Butterbur, and Frodo heard that he was an intriguing fellow.

"Excuse me!" Frodo attempted to ring the little metal bell labeled "Ring for Assistance", but, alas, was too short. "Hello!"

The woman behind the desk leaned down over the hobbits. "Hobbits!" she gasped.

"We are looking for Mr. Butterbur," Sam asked. "Might you know where he is?"

The lady nodded and disappeared behind a door labeled "Employees Only." Fortunately for her, the she happened to be an employee. A few moments later, a roly-poly sort of fellow with thinning hair and a waxed mustache came out. "Good evening, little masters," he greeted them. "How may I be of service to you?"

"Could we have beds for four? You must be Mr. Butterbur," Frodo noted.

"Indeed, I am. Barliman's my name. Barliman Butterbur," Barliman Butterbur announced, proudly patting his maroon nametag with the words "B. Butterbur—Manager" engraved neatly on it. "You're from the Shire? Might I ask your names?"

"Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck," Frodo said, gesturing to Pippin and Merry, respectively. "This is Sam Gamgee, and I am Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods."

"Ah, yes. I think we had a cousin of yours here a while back. He was stopping over on his way to see his grandmother or something to that effect," Butterbur said, scrolling through the computer records.

_Shoot! I thought Gandalf made it up!_ Frodo thought frantically. "I... I wasn't aware any Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses were in this area."

"Well, you must have been at least somewhat aware," Butterbur replied, looking at the function hall reservations. "The Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods family reunion is going on right now. In fact, you're the last to arrive. They're all waiting for you."

"Actually... I'd like to... go to my room and rest a little, first..." Frodo stammered.

"Oh, nonsense. Let's not keep the party waiting any longer," Mr. Bur replied jollily.

"Party?" Pippin asked, looking around.

An idea suddenly occurred to Frodo. "Mr. Butterbur, is Gandalf Greyhame here? I would like to speak with him." Gandalf would know how to get him out of this.

Butterbur's face lit up in recollection. "Ah, yes... Tall man; big grey beard, hat, and robes..."

"Yes! Have you seen him?" Frodo exclaimed.

"Oh... We don't give out personal information about our guests," Barliman replied smugly, rapidly tapping on his keyboard.

"You just did," Merry pointed out.

"Yes. I suppose I did, didn't I? In that case, yes. He was here. That must have been... six months ago by now."

Frodo's face fell as some people entered the lobby from the large double doors marked "Function Hall".

"Oh! Look! Is that cousin Frodo?" the obligatory at-least-one-per-fictional-family obnoxious overweight cousin exclaimed.

"I think it is! He looks different from when I last remember," the also obligatory closest-relation-to-family-is-fourth-cousin-five-times-removed's-best-friend-who-is-probably-after-someone's-money paranoid uncle replied.

"Everything looks different to you. Come on! Let's get this party started!" Each grabbed one of Frodo's arms and bodily dragged him into the function hall. Merry, Pippin, and Sam trailed behind.

"FRODO!" three hundred and seventy-one slightly intoxicated Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses shouted as he entered the room.

"Uh... hi," Frodo replied sheepishly.

"I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour!"

"As soon as you opened your mouth, I knew _exactly_ who you were!"

"Let me see your teeth. Were your teeth always that bad?"

"Don't carry him like that! You'll hurt him! Frodo, dear, are you all right?"

"You were such a pretty child. What happened to you?"

"You really shouldn't have spent all this money and effort for me."

To each, Frodo wanted to ask, "Who are you?" but, figuring it best to play along, he smiled and nodded.

After a good ten minutes, the hubbub returned to normal, relatively speaking. Frodo rejoined his companions, glowering miserably. Gandalf was supposed to be there but was not, and he couldn't figure out what that meant. Whenever he made for his room for some peace and quiet to attempt to figure things out, another Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods (each of which bore a striking resemblance to Random Hobbit #50) would spot him, attempt to smother him with a giant hug and a few too many sloppy kisses than Frodo was comfortable with, and relate to him each and every detail of his (or, occasionally, her, but Frodo often had trouble telling) life from twenty years ago onwards along with news flashes about Great-Great-Aunt Tillythicket's Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis and how Janie, poor girl, ran off and got herself married to a Jinglealltheway.

"Cheer up, Mr. Frodo," Sam stated as Frodo plopped down next to him after escaping the latest developments in his newfound aunt's lung disease. "Look, there's ice cream!" he exclaimed further, licking a cone of chocolate chip cookie dough.

Merry, who had been elsewhere, sat down next to Pippin, eyeing a cylindrical black and pink container labeled "Cherry Garcia."

Pippins eyes grew wide as he stopped licking his cone. "What's that?" he asked incredulously.

"This, my friend, is a pint," Merry announced.

"It comes in pints?" Pippin asked, doubly incredulously. He dropped his cone on the table, forgotten. "I'm getting one!"

"Pip, you've already had two cones," Frodo warned wearily, but he made no attempt to stop him. As he watched Pippin made a beeline for the Ben & Jerry's stand, his eyes caught a shadowy figure alone in the corner of the room wearing a plain black hooded sweatshirt. He hadn't noticed him before, and he looked nothing like the over-jubilant, overweight, over-vertically challenged, Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses. He stopped a tall, thin man in a 3 piece suit holding a platter of cocktail weenies.

"Excuse me; who is that?" Frodo asked, pointing the man out.

"Him?" the waiter replied. "I'm not rightly sure. He's one of them Rangers. A man of few words, he is; only speaks when he has a story to tell. He'll disappear for a while and then show up again. I don't know his real name, but around here, he's known as Speeder. He's probably been known to ignore a speed limit or two, but I don't know for sure. There are those who say his right foot is made of lead. He never tells anyone why he has such cause to hurry. Funny you should ask—"

But Mr. Waiterdude (or so his professionally engraved maroon nametag read) was pulled away by some ravenously hungry Riverpeople.

Frodo saw Speeder looking at him as though he had heard—or at least guessed—everything he had just said. The grizzled man waved him over. As Frodo cautiously approached, Speeder took off his hood, revealing his salt-and-pepper hair and his pale, stern face and keen gray eyes. Speeder then removed his sweatshirt to reveal an obnoxious black T-shirt with white lettering that read "Chicks dig smelly, unkempt, unshaven guys from the North."

"I am called Speeder," he said in a low voice. "I am very pleased to meat you, Mr. Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods—if I have your name right."

"You do," said Frodo stiffly, somewhat taken aback. "But you would find many Mr. Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses here."

"Indeed, but you are the one I am looking to meet," Speeder replied.

_Creepy,_ Frodo thought.

Speeder said nothing else. Frodo noticed his gaze fixed on Pippin. The inestimable young Took was giving a comic account (a parody, if you will) of Bilbo's party to the rather inebriated Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses. With alarm, Frodo realized that this would bring the name of Baggins to their minds. _In his present mood, he might even mention the Ringtone,_ Frodo thought. _What a disaster that would be!_

"You had better do something quick," Speeder—who had never scored particularly highly on the verbal section of the SAT's—suggested.

Frodo jumped onto the nearest table and tried to get everyone's attention. He had no idea what to do until an old drunken man looked up at him and slurred "Speech!" expectantly.

"I have a dream," Frodo started. "That someday, Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses will be able to party together without getting completely hammered!"

The clan gave him a blank stare. Somebody in the audience muttered, "Which side of the family is _he_ on?" A more boisterous somebody declared, "A song!" Soon, "A song!" was the rallying cry for Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses across the room.

Frodo sang the first song that came to mind:

_Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall,  
__Ninety-nine bottles of beer,  
__Take one down, pass it around,  
__Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall._

_Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall,  
__Ninety-eight bottles of beer..._

The hobbits learned quickly, and by the time ninety-seven bottles of beer were on the wall, all of the hobbits were so engrossed in song that Frodo could easily sneak off the table. _That was close,_ he thought.

Frodo glanced out the window. It was getting dark, so he couldn't see much. He did notice, however, that the glass seemed to be quivering. It was like he was watching Jurassic Park for the 9,345th time, only it was real. However, the shaking windows seemed to have some sort of rhythm to it. Shortly after, the walls began to shake as a clear bass rhythm could be heard by everyone in the hotel. It soon gained more instruments and, eventually, words:

_I'm coming up so you better get this party started,  
I'm coming up, I'm comin',  
I'm coming up so you better get this party started..._

A speeding-ticket red sports car screeched to a halt in the Holiday Inn Express parking lot, and out of the driver's seat popped a hobbit who appeared to be a hideous cross between Random Hobbit #50 and Frodo himself.

_Sweet swirling onion rings!_ Frodo exclaimed mentally. _I'm dead!_

* * *

Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods attempted to do the cool limp into the reception area of the Holiday Inn Express. "Hi. Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods. Here for the family reunion," he stated smoothly.

"Uh..." the guy behind the front desk whose very professional nametag read "B. Butterbur" looked through the computerized records. "Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods came about an hour ago."

"Ah, no." Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods said suavely. "Couldn't have. 'Cause he's _me_."

"Well, he did, and there's nothing I can do about it." B returned to his computer.

Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods's eyes narrowed. "Which one is he?"

Barliman's eyes unfocused in concentration. "Brown, curly hair. Blue eyes. Looks kind of like that guy in _The Butterfly Effect_."

"Where could I find this... Frodo?"

"I'm sorry," Barliman said prouldy. "We don't give out personal information about our guests."

"Y'just did."

Butterbur paused. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I did. Well, he's in the function hall with the rest of the Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses."

The real Frodo O. snickered. "'Scuse me. I have some buisness to attend to." He entered the hall.

* * *

Frodo Baggins was panicked. He was trying to hide, but such a thing proved difficult. His "cousin" was sure to find him eventually.

"Stop the party!" came an angry voice.

_Oh, fuzzlewitz,_ Frodo thought.

"Which one of you is Frodo Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods?" Frodo's "relative" stormed across the room.

"He is." One of the women pointed at Frodo.

"No, he's not!" Frodo's "relation" barged closer until he was right next to Frodo. _"Imposter!"_ he hissed, spitting in his ear.

But Frodo hadn't noticed. His phone was ringing, and he had an overwhelming urge to answer it. Without thinking, he took the golden cell off his belt, flipped it open, and pressed it against his ear (the one his "kinsman" wasn't spitting into).

Frodo O. Stood in shock as his impersonator disappeared. "Where'd he go?"

But he received no answer, as everyone else was asking the same question.

---

Frodo B. crawled over to Speeder and leaned against the wall. He took the Ringtone away from his ear and replaced it to its place on his belt. At Speeder's disapproving look, Frodo cried, "It wasn't me!"

Speeder nodded. "Oh, yes it was."

"Oh, no it wasn't!"

"Oh, yes it was."

"Nuh-uhh!"

"Uh-huhh!"

"Nuh-uhh!"

"Uh—never mind," Speeder said quickly. "Come with me. I need to talk with you."

Frodo followed, torn between relief and apprehension. "What is it?"

Speeder took Frodo up the elevator and into his room, leaving the cacophony of Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses behind.


	7. Speeder

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER TEN – SPEEDER

Pippin and Sam, noting Frodo's absence, caught the next elevator to the floor to which they hoped Frodo had gone. After knocking on several doors and interrupting several conversations, they found Speeder's room. As soon as the door opened, they demanded to know what he'd done with Frodo.

"He's right here," he said, gesturing to Frodo, who looked rather frightened but otherwise unharmed.

"What are you doing to him?" Pippin asked worriedly.

"I'm simply asking a few questions," Speeder replied.

"So... What did you want to talk about? Frodo asked.

"Several things." Speeder answered. "But it will cost you."

"Cost me... what?" Frodo queried. Much of his money he had left in his car that was now hopelessly ruined at the base of an irritated tree in the Old Forest.

"Nothing you can't afford," Speeder said as though he was reading Frodo's mind. "Just this: you must take me along with you until I wish to leave."

"Really?" Frodo said, startled. "Even if I _did_ want another companion, I would not agree to _you_. Not until I have learned more about you, anyway."

"I don't trust him," Sam asserted to Frodo. "He's up to no good."

Speeder regarded Sam with amusement. "Well then, let me convince you." He pulled a DVD out of his pocket and inserted it into the player that was conveniently provided with the hotel room.

"Wasn't Butterbur supposed to give us that?" Pippin whispered to Sam.

"Poetic license?" Sam suggested.

The hobbits looked at the screen, which now displayed Gandalf's face.

"Hello, hobbits," Gandalf said. "I need to leave because I heard some distressing news. Leave Bag End soon and the Shire by July. I shall return ASAP and follow you if you have gone. You will meet a homie of mine at Bree who should give you this DVD. He is lean, dark, and tall. By some he is called Speeder. He knows our needs and will help all of you in any way he can (except, of course, for Merry. He has a few issues even Speeder cannot help)." The hobbits were glad that the hobbit was not around to hear Gandalf's comment, even though it may have been true. "Head for Rivendell. If I am not there, Elrond will advise you. Semper Fi, carry on!

"_Gandalf_

"By the way—Do not use _IT_ again, no matter the reason! Do not travel by night.

"By the way again—Make sure it is the real Speeder. Bree's Happydale Asylum has loose security, and there are a few interesting characters on the roads. His real name is Aragorn."

Then, suddenly, without warning, etc., white letters appeared in the lower left-hand corner of the TV screen that read:

"Gandalf Greyhame  
All Star  
TehWizards Records"

Just as suddenly, Gandalf began to sing. And dance. He had to dance. I mean, c'mon. Picture Ian McKellan singing with and dancing to Smashmouth. You gotta admit—it's a funny mental image.

_Hey now,  
You're an all star,  
Get your game on,  
Go play.  
Hey now,  
You're a rock star  
Get your game on,  
Get paid.  
All that glitters is gold,  
Only shootin' stars break the mold._

"Wasn't the point of the poem supposed to be that _not_ all that glitters is gold?" Pippin pointed out.

"Shh! Just watch the movie!" Sam hissed.

Unfortunately, it was too late, as the talented singing Gandalf was the last thing on the DVD. Speeder ejected it from the player and handed it to Frodo.

"Why didn't you tell us that you were Gandalf's friend from the beginning?" Frodo inquired.

"What fun would that have been?" Speeder retorted. "And anyway, would you have believed me?

Frodo thought for a moment. "Probably not," he admitted.

There was a protracted silence that took the place of an excrutiating amount of boring dialogue.

Pippin looked around confusedly. "Where's Merry?"

"Not here," Frodo astutely observed.

Right then, there was an impeccably-timed knock on the door. Speeder indicated that the hobbits move out of sight of the doorway (which they did) and opened the door a crack to an exhausted-looking Merry.

"Frodo!" Merry exclaimed, completely oblivious to the fact that the man in front of him was decidedly _not_ Frodo.

"I think you have me confused with... anyone else," Speeder remarked.

"Oh, kovacs," Merry mumbled, moving to the next room. Speeder simply watched as Merry knocked and the unsuspecting guest answered.

"Ello-hay y-may iend-fray. Ou-yay Ay-may Enter-hay," a smooth and gentle voice answered.

"Merry!" Pippin cried, recognizing Merry's voice (which, suffice it to say, was not the pig-latin). Speeder, realizing that this hobbit was friends with the other three, leaped into the hall and grabbed Merry. "Orry-say. E's-hay a-hay it-bay onfused-cay."

Merry and Speeder arrived back at the room. "Frodo!" Merry cried.

"Yes," Frodo replied evenly.

Merry relaxed visibly. "About time."

"Where have you been?" Sam asked angrily.

The polite thing to do when asked a question, particularly an angry one, is to give a concise response that answers the question but does not offer a tedious explanation. Merry, apparently, had not been taught this as a young hobbitling. "Did you know," he announced, "that there are four hundred and thirty-seven rooms before this one, and Random Hobbit #50 is in every single one of them?!"

"_Merry!_" Sam snapped. _"Where have you been?"_

Merry looked at him strangely, wondering if he gathered that he had knocked on 439 doors and apologized to 437 Random Hobbit #50's, Speeder, and the occupant of the next room. He then cleared his throat and announced, "I have seen them!"

"Seen _what?_" Sam asked in exasperation.

"Seen a Black Driver!" Merry shrieked.

There was a pounding from the other side of the wall. "Iet-quay! I'm-hay ying-tray o-tay eep-slay!"

"Orry-say!" Speeder hollered back.

"What language is that?" Sam queried.

"It sounds like Elvish," Frodo observed.

"It is Elvish," Speeder confirmed.

"Is that what Elvis speaks?" Pippin piped up.

Speeder smacked him on the back of the head. "No!" He looked at Merry. "Have you seen a Black Driver?"

Merry, at this point, came to the realization that there was a strange burly man in the same room as his friends. "Frodo? Who is that?"

"A friend of Gandalf's. I will explain later," Frodo explained.

"Oh... Ok," Merry said good-naturedly before launching into the whole _meopillah_. "Anyways. I saw one in the village. I was in the function hall for quite some time. I wasn't sure where you guys were, so I went for a stroll."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to not wander about when you were lost?" Speeder interjected.

"No," Merry stated mater-of-factly. "Anyhou, strolling a while, I came back. Then, I got bored again, so I decided to go for a stroll. I then realized tat I had no idea where I was going, so I came back. Then after having a bit of ice cream, I went for a stroll. Then I decided to come back. Then I went for a stroll again. Then I came back. Then I—"

"We get... the idea..." Speeder growled.

"But I strolled and came back a few more times!" He met four annoyed glares, sighed, and decided to continue. "Fine. Anyways, I was wandering around when I saw the Black Driver."

"Which way did it go?" Speeder asked.

"Into the woods. There was no car," Merry reported.

"I thought he was outside," Pippin remarked.

"No; he was strolling, remember?" Frodo prompted.

"Ah, yes... How could I forget?" Pippin replied, glaring at Merry.

"_Anyways..._ Moving on..." a rather annoyed Speeder cut in.

"Right," Merry said, glaring back. "Anyways, I tried to follow it, but it disappeared into the woods. This sounds stupid, I know, but I just felt compelled to follow it. After a while, I heard a hissing sound behind me, so I followed it. The Black Driver turned around and showed me his cell phone. It was a Nextel, and he named it an awful, alliterated name I cannot bear to repeat. He actually referred to his phone by this name and held conversations with the phone itself! I couldn't stand it. I screamed, ran away, and fell over. I don't know what came over me. It was so off-the-wall. I can't explain it."

"You can certainly try," Sam remarked but was immediately shushed.

"I can explain it." Speeder announced ominously. "They name their electronic devices with sickening alliterated names as Merry mentioned. To any person with any traces of sanity, this seems utterly outlandish and sick to comprehend and his brain can't take it. The mind simply shuts down for a while. The worst of them can cause even the strongest of minds to shut down completely."

"That is just icky!" Frodo exclaimed.

"Will the Drivers attack the inn?" Merry's eyes were wide with fear.

"Not yet," Speeder assured. "But do not go to your hobbit-rooms. They can find you there too easily."

"What shall we do then?" Pippin was bouncing anxiously in his seat.

"Merry jerked as though he had been hit with something large, blunt, and heavy. "I know! I saw these cardboard cutouts down of these for dudes that look _exactly like us!_"

* * *

The four companions stole into the lobby. "Where were they, Merry?"

"In the function hall," Merry whispered. "Let's go."

"Nuh-uh," Frodo whispered back. "Nope. Not gunna do it. I've had enough of my family reunion, thank you very much."

"Come _on!_" the other three hobbits pulled him into the hall. Fortunately, the three hundred and seventy-one Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoodses were rather intoxicated, so they scarcely noticed Frodo's entrance. At the point they were at, they would have scarcely noticed anything. One of the cousins whose name Frodo had forgotten was having an animated discussion with a cutout that looked remarkably like Merry although it had the name "DOM" printed on the bottom.

"That's just creepy," Pippin whispered.

"How do we get it away from him?" Frodo asked.

"I know," Merry replied with certainty. "Watch."

He jogged into the room. "Cousin Omar!" He embraced the drunken hobbit. "So good to see you again!" He began to carry on a conversation.

"I think he wants us to go in and grab the cutouts," Sam whispered.

"Well, go!" Pippin shoved him in the general direction of that corner of the room.

Quickly the three hobbits grabbed their respective cutouts with Pippin grabbing Merry's as well. Once they had, Merry abandoned his conversation and speedily joined them. "Here." Pippin thrust the "DOM" cutout into his cousin's hands. "Let's go."

Omar Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods turned continue his previous conversation. "Well, Elijah, like I was saying..." He trailed off. "Sean? Billy? Dom?" All for of his companions had abandoned him. "Mm, what a shame," he mused. "It was a scintillating conversation. They were such fine folk."

* * *

The four hobbits positioned their cutouts in the room they had rented and returned to Speeder's, where he had prepared four cots just for the hobbits.

And then all lapsed into REM cycles.


	8. A Comcast Cable Box in the Dark

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Whitey Bolger is a notorious Boston mobster who's been on the run since forever. If you don't know who he is, a Google search will quickly relieve you of your ignorance. That is what we're making fun of with Fatty here. I mean, Fatty Bolger. Whitey Bolger. How could we resist?

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER ELEVEN – A COMCAST CABLE BOX IN THE DARK

Our dear hobbits were drifting off to sleep at the Holiday Inn Express. The Overtheriver-Andthroughthewoods family reunion continued to rage on downstairs. But an excruciatingly spooky feeling had fallen over Buckland like a bad _Scooby-Doo _movie.

Fatty Bolger poked his head out of his jail cell (which just happened to be conveniently located next to the Holiday Inn Express). After being on the run for a very long time, the Buckland PD had finally caught him, and Fatty was in jail. He had been cooped up for quite some time and was most likely beginning to hallucinate. How else would one describe the horrifying black figure going through the gate and approaching Fatty's window?

"Open in the name of Mordor!" The figure hissed.

Fatty didn't move.

An alarm went off. Fatty couldn't tell its source. A voice cried out:

AWAKE! FEAR AND FIRE AND FOES, OH MY! FEAR AND FIRE AND FOES, OH MY!

Fatty didn't know what to do. Why was this person looking for him? Fatty was already in jail. What could this wacko want?

"Help!" Fatty called to the guard. "Help me! I need the phone! I need to call my brother!"

The guard looked over his glasses at Fatty. "Your _brother?" _

"Yes! Bill Bolger, President of U-Buckland!" Fatty said anxiously. Surely Bill would have some answers. Little did he know, Big Brother Bill was bankrupt.

The guard shook his head and went back to reading _The Buckland Times. He's finally lost it, _the guard thought.

* * *

It was early in the morning when Frodo woke up. He woke suddenly and felt very uneasy. However, when he saw that all was right with the world, he went back to sleep. 

Later, Frodo woke up again. He heard engines revving, tires squealing, and horns honking. Everyone was awake, and Speeder ushered them out of the room their cardboard cutouts occupied. When they saw what had happened, all four companions gasped.

The cutouts were slashed (that is to say, chopped into tiny little pieces, _not_ forced into non-canonical homosexual relationships) and the pieces strewn all over the room. All hobbits were glad they'd taken their newfound _compadre's _advice.

"Icky!" Frodo gasped.

"That's beyond creepy," Pippin shuddered.

"Come along," Speeder hurried them out of the room. "We must make like a baby and head out. Quick! Hurry back to the room and gather your things!"

All four quickly did as they were told. When they were done, they ran to their Lemon. "Hey! It's stripped!" Sam cried.

"Who'd want to strip a car like this?" Pippin asked incredulously.

"I…uh…wouldn't know…" Merry stammered.

"To my Ranger!" Speeder declared heroically.

"I thought you _were _a Ranger!" Sam said indignantly.

"I am," Speeder confirmed. "And so is my truck."

"Now that's just sick," Frodo panted.

"I don't get it." Pippin commented. But keeping up with Speeder was challenging, so the hobbits set a rather torrid pace.

They reached the Ford Ranger and might have gotten an earlier start if not for Merry and Frodo fighting over shotgun. "Hey!" Pippin protested when Merry tried to get in. _"I _want shotgun!"

"No way!" Frodo interjected. "Ringbearer gets shotgun!"

"Give me one good reason!" Merry challenged.

"I'll give you _five _good reasons!" Frodo shouted back. He counted them off on his fingers. "One, two, three, four, five!"

"Those are good reasons," Merry deadpanned.

"Get out!" Speeder tossed Merry out of the seat and Frodo jumped in.

Sam, Pippin, and Merry tussled for various positions in the backseat for a few minutes. When all were settled, Speeder started the car.

"Speeder?" Pippin asked.

"Yes, Pippin?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"PIPPIN!" Everyone yelled.

And then a bit of long, boring driving transpired. Much to Pippin's anguish, there was not a single bathroom stop.

* * *

"What is this place?" Pippin asked as Speeder drove up a long, windy mountain road. 

"Weatherchannel dot com-top." Speeder parked the car. "We will spend the night here."

"What is it?" Merry insisted.

"It used to be weatherchannel dot com's official weather rock," Speeder explained.

"Weather rock?" Merry asked.

"Yes, weather rock. If it's wet, it's raining; if it's warm, it's sunny; you get the idea," Speeder continued. "It's abandoned now, but the name remains."

This understood, they began to set up camp. Sam and Frodo lit a fire and prepared dinner. For Speeder it was quite enough, but the hobbits found that it wasn't nearly satisfactory.

"We don't have enough food!" Merry complained. "We'll never make it to Rivendell."

"Yes, we will," Speeder said evenly. "There is food in the wild. I got a merit badge in hunting, but that will be time-consuming and dangerous. Do try to make the food last as long as possible."

As the night wore on, it got colder. Speeder began to tell the hobbits stories to keep them from creeping out. He knew a lot of history, tales of good and evil. The hobbits were quite enchanted. They never heard of anything outside the Shire.

"Tell us of Gil-Galad," Merry spoke up.

Sam gasped. "Yes! We want to hear of the Elves!"

"Aren't they the ones that speak Elvisian?" Pippin pondered before being thwacked in the back of the head by two of his companions.

But Speeder shook his head. "I do not believe we should speak of that here; not while servants of the Enemy are present. When we get to Rivendell, I will tell you the story."

"Look!" Pippin pointed to the sky, completely oblivious to the fact that someone else was trying to speak. "That star is awfully bright."

The four others followed his gaze. "I don't think that's a star, Pip," Merry stated.

"It's a UFO!" Sam shrieked.

Speeder held up a hand. "It's just the moon."

"What are those, then?" Pippin pointed at the three black shapes silhouetted against the moon.

"Black Drivers!" Speeder hollered. "Stay close to the fire with your faces outward!"

The Drivers advanced. They slid to a halt in front of the hobbits and climbed out of their Vipers. The four waited for piercing screams or other such ickiness, but nothing came.

One of the Tonewraiths stepped forward. "Hi!" it said, rather jovially. "This is my PDA. His name is Trevor. He's a Treo. Trevor the Treo. Would you like to meet him?" He moved forward again.

Such sickness of mind our hobbits had never before seen. "AaAaAaA!" they screamed.

A second stepped forward. And this is my phone. Her name is Vicky the Verizon. She is very friendly. Aren't you, Vicky?"

The name of the phone was Vicky! Vicky the Verizon! And it actually called the phone Vicky! It was too much to bear. "AaAaAaAaA!"

The third Tonewraith cornered Frodo. "Do you suppose that you could come and connect Candy, my comically cool Comcast Cable Box?" it smirked, holding out a large, gray cable box.

It was too much to bear. Frodo was beyond making any noise, he was so terrified. The Ringtone rang, and without thinking, he flipped up the lid and pressed the telephone to his ear.

Everything looked like the negative of a photograph. The three Tonewraiths advanced on him. The one with Candy the Comcast Cable Box lunged forward and held it right in Frodo's face.

_I have to get out of here!_ Desperately, Frodo took the Ringtone away from his ear and closed it.


	9. The Flight in a Ford

Author's Note—I would like to dedicate this chapter (and a brief scene in the next) to my friend and devoted Glorfy fangirl. Glorfy will prevail!

I would also like to apologize in advance to Arwen fans. We like Arwen. We do. At least, I do. Nevertheless, she was rather easy to make fun of. And make fun of her we did.

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER TWELVE – THE FLIGHT IN A FORD (OR CHEVY, AS THE CASE MAY BE)

When Frodo awoke, he was still clutching the Ringtone. He was lying on Speeder's tailgate by the fire, and his three cohorts were leaning over him.

"What's the matter with you? You don't jump in front of a black man in a buffet line!" Frodo exclaimed.

The other three were so happy to hear him speak that they didn't notice he was spouting random lines from _Rush Hour_. After much cajoling, Frodo got Sam to tell him the story of the earlier happenings. The Tonewraiths had the hobbits sufficiently weirded out when Sam noticed Frodo had vanished. They all were all looking around for a while when Frodo reappeared with his fount of movie randomness. Speeder had used a magnet to wipe out the Tonewraiths' technology, and having nothing left with which they could attack the hobbits, they left.

Sam was beginning to have doubts about Speeder. When he had returned from destroying the Tonewraiths' technology, Sam drew out his sword and stood over Frodo.

"I am not a Black Driver, Sam," Speeder said gently. "Nor am I in cahoots with them. I'm trying to learn something of how they work, but it's hard. I imagine they have gone to tend to their ailing techie devices. I do not feel their presence."

* * *

When Speeder heard Frodo's babblings, he was very concerned. He retreated to his truck, closed all the doors to hopefully avoid the hobbits' tendency to drop eves, and pressed a blue button on his rearview mirror adorned with a four-pointed star. A voice came through the car's speakers.

"Evenstar; this is Elrond. How can I help you?"

"Elrond! This is Aragorn. I have a hobbit by Weatherchannel-dot-com-top that was assailed by a Tonewraith, and he's already losing it. There's a pharmacy fifteen minutes' walking distance away, but I don't know how long he'll last, even with some of our medicine. Can you send anyone to help?"

"Tonewraiths!" Elrond mused. "This is ill news indeed. Very well; I will send Glorfindel over to bring him to Rivendell. He will get him here safely."

Aragorn paused, unsure of how to voice his next sentiment. He went for the short and simple approach. "Not Arwen?" he asked, with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Oh, clam it, lover boy. You'll see her soon enough." Elrond cut off the connection.

* * *

Aragorn climbed out of his Ranger and looked at the four hobbits. "We will get some help for Frodo very soon. You stay here with Frodo. If you think you hear anything icky approaching, lock yourselves in the car. Keep the fire going and keep Frodo warm! I shall return."

* * *

Approximately fifteen minutes later, Aragorn arrived at the pharmacy. The cashier only knew enough common tongue to rattle off prices and show people the location of the bathroom, so he started wandering down the aisles looking for some _Oloft-zay_, an Elvish medication that would surely get Frodo out of his state of depression. Unfortunately, it was quite difficult to find.

_Zinc supplement?_ he read, wandering down the _Z_ aisle. _Zirconium dust? Zulu Gatherings? Zxuxuxuxupxu? It should be somewhere here…_

Speeder's whole body tensed as he felt cold, sharp metal against his neck.

"What's this?" a gently teasing female voice questioned. "A Ranger, caught off his guard?"

Speeder turned around to gaze upon his lady love, Arwen. "How did you get here? I thought they were sending Glorfindel."

Arwen huffed. "I'm sick of simply being the pretty girl in Rivendell. And besides, Glorfindel was… busy."

Speeder was a bit confused, but he decided he'd rather not know. He spotted a bottle of the medicine lodged well into the _h_ section and, giving the foreign clerk too much money as all real men in a hurry do, sped out the door to Arwen's car.

* * *

Aragorn had forgotten how bad Arwen was at taking directions. Fifteen minutes and several detours later, they arrived at Weatherchannel-dot-com-top and emerged from the car. 

"Look!" Merry pointed to Speeder. "Who's that?"

"Speeder," Pippin observed.

"But who's the girl?" Merry hissed.

"Mrs. Speeder?" Pippin guessed.

Mystery Woman tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her trademarked pointy ears.

Sam gasped. "She's an elf!"

* * *

Arwen knelt by Frodo. His eyes were glassy and unfocused—quite common for Tonewraith victims. She began to speak soothingly. 

"Odo-fray. I am Arwen… Ear-hay y-may oice-vay. Ome-cay into-hay e-thay ight-lay. Ome-cay into-hay e-thay ight-lay."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Arwen?" Aragorn whispered nervously.

"I know what I'm doing!" she hissed back.

Frodo at first seemed to calm slightly. Then, suddenly, he started screaming. "Trevor the Treo! Vicky the Verizon! Candy the Comcast Cable Box! _The horror!_ THE HORROR!"

Upon hearing the sickly alliterated names, Arwen and Aragorn involuntarily twitched. Not having the actual devices to contend with, however, they could recover quite easily.

"The Tonewraiths have weirded him out," Arwen diagnosed. "We must get him to my father." She gently picked him up and laid him down in the backseat of her Chevy Impala.

"_Hey!"_ An indignant male voice rang out, weirding everyone out. A wild-haired elf leaped from the trees and pointed accusingly at Arwen. "You. You took _my job!_"

Speeder glanced at Arwen. "So they _did_ really send Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel glared at the she-elf. "I'm sick of your stupid feminist warrior-princess garbage!" he spat. "Let me take the Halfling."

Arwen drew her sword, wondering howmanaged to freehimself from the chair to which she'd duct-taped him. "No way."

Glorfindel snorted. "Arwen, you can't even parallel park. And somehow I don't think you know how to use that sword, either."

Speeder whistled. "Hey, guys! Not to be a nudge, but do you realize that there are nine Tonewraiths after us?"

"There are three after you," Arwen clarified. "I do knot know where the other five are."

Merry quickly counted on his fingers. "That's only eight."

Arwen redoubled the calculations on her own fingers. "I don't know where the last one is, either," she added quickly.

Glorfindel took advantage of Arwen's distraction and slid into the driver's seat. "Thank you," he said smoothly.

"Hey!" Arwen shrieked.

Glorfindel rolled the window down and smirked at her. "Arwen, unless you want to rough it with the guys, hop in with me."

"I can handle it," she sniffed, glaring at the elf that was so chauvinistic to steal her job.

"No showers," Glorfindel warned.

"I can take it," she announced, but she seemed less resolute.

"You'll smudge your eye liner," Speeder added.

"I can do it," she retorted, more trying to convince herself than anyone else.

Glorfindel gave her a knowing smile. "You're gonna ruin your shoes…"

Arwen fought with that for a while. "…Oh, all right," she finally conceded, climbing into the passenger's seat.

* * *

Arwen fumed at Glorfindel for much of the ride to Rivendell. How dare he steal her thunder? She was going to show the world how brave and powerful they she-elfs could be. 

"Uh-oh," Glorfindel broke into and commandeered Arwen's train of thought.

"What?" Arwen asked absently.

"Black Drivers." Glorfindel tapped the window.

"We're in an Impala; they're in Vipers," Arwen pointed out, fear rising in her voice.

"Really? You think?" Glorfindel asked sarcastically.

"We can't outrun them!" Arwen shrieked.

"And you thought you'd be better at this than I am," Glorfindel said amusedly.

"Glorfindel!"

"Hold on!" Glorfindel said. He punched the accelerator. "Ramming speed!"

Even so, the Tonewraiths caught up with them quickly. They raced to the river, and Glorfindel drove through it. The Drivers stayed on the other side.

"Give up the Halfling!" one of them yelled.

Arwen saw her chance to shine. She rolled her window down and stuck her head out. "If you want him," she shouted back, "come and claim him!"

The Tonewraiths began to advance. "Nice move, she-elf!" Glorfindel snapped.

Arwen closed her eyes and murmured mysterious Elvish words. Nothing happened.

"Idiot!" Glorfindel floored the accelerator. "You know the waters are at your father's command! _Not yours!_"

Just as they left the river with the Black Drivers on their tailpipe, water crashed down on the nine Vipers, carrying them down the river and destroying their cars.

Arwen sat back in her seat, a satisfied smirk on her face. Glorfindel was speechless.


	10. The Nextel of Elrond

Author's note: I am well aware that the actual words are the "'bomp' in the 'bomp-a-bomp-a-bomp'" as our resident Oldies aficionado dutifully informed us, but I like my version better. So there meh.

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE  
BOOK TWO– CHAPTER ONE – THE NEXTEL OF ELROND

Frodo awoke in a bed. It was a rather sizable bed, and he did recognize it or his surroundings. Where was he? What time was it? And who put the "bop" in the "bop-she-bop-she-bop"?

"You are in Rivendell at the house of Elrond," Gandalf answered when Frodo voiced his queries. "It is ten AM on October the 25th. As far as your final question, I would like to know as well. Who was that man? I'd like to shake his hand. He made my baby fall in love with me."

Frodo's face lit up. "Gandalf!"

"Yes," Gandalf smiled. "I'm here. And you're lucky to be here, after all the shenanigans you have gotten yourself into."

"Where's Sam?" Frodo asked. "And Merry and Pippin and Speeder? And why didn't you meet us at the Holiday Inn Express?"

"Everyone is here," Gandalf responded. "As far as the Holiday Inn Express goes… I was delayed. It nearly sent us down the tube, but it did not."

"How?" Frodo was quite curious.

"I shall tell you later," Gandalf said evenly. "For now—"

"Frodo!" Sam rushed into the room and grabbed his friend's hand. "Bless you, you're awake!"

Gandalf chuckled. "Sam has hardly left your side since we've been here."

Sam nodded. "We've been very worried about you, Mr. Frodo!"

A tall, lean gentleman who made everyone who'd seen _The Matrix_ involuntarily shudder entered the room. "Mr. And—er, Mr. Baggins," he said severely.

Frodo swallowed hard. _Sweet Alaskan asparagus tips, he sounds like Agent Smith!_

Agent Smith's look-alike smiled. "I am Elrond. Welcome to Rivendell."

* * *

An hour later, Elrond sat on the balcony waiting Gandalf. Before he saw the wizard, however, he found his daughter walking by. "Arwen!" he called after her. "Come!" 

Arwen came, looking as though she already knew the topic of discussion. "Yes, Ada-day?"

Elrond looked at Arwen gravely (that is, more gravely than usual). "Why did you try to go in place of Glorfindel?"

Arwen gave a sigh of frustration. "Oh, Father. I just wanted to—"

"Show everyone that everything the boys can do, you can do better," Elrond finished in a rather ungrammatical fashion to prove his point. "Arwen, we have discussed this at length."

"But _Father!_" Arwen protested. "When I called upon the water, it ran over the Drivers!"

Elrond's eyes widened. "Arwen… when was this?"

"Two days ago," Arwen responded smugly.

Elrond couldn't help laughing. "Arwen!"

Arwen looked hurt. "What?"

"Your nephew didn't believe the waters were really at my command," Elrond chuckled. "I decided to show him."

* * *

After lengthy boringness, several people gathered in the main courtyard. Every race of Middle-Earth was represented. There was Legolas of Mirkwood, a pretty-boy Elf with a large fangirl following; Gimli, a grizzled dwarf with a smaller following of comic-relief fans; Boromir, a mortal man with very few fans at all; and lots of others who were mainly eye candy. 

Once they were all settled, they looked at each other and whipped out their Nextel phones.

Elrond: _Bleep_ "Tone?"  
Frodo: _Bleep_ "Here." He put it on the table in the middle.  
Legolas: _Bleep_ "Do?"  
Gimli: _Bleep_ "Destroy!"  
All: _Bleep_ _"Destroy!"  
_Legolas: _Bleep_ "Where?"  
Gandalf: _Bleep_ "Mordor."  
All: _Bleep_ _"Mordor!"  
_Elrond: _Bleep_ "Who?"  
Legolas: _Bleep_ "Me!"  
Gimli: _Bleep_ "No!"  
Boromir: _Bleep_ "Me!"  
All: _Bleep_ _"NO!"  
_Frodo: _Bleep_ "Me."  
Elrond: _Bleep_ "You."  
All: _Bleep_ "Him?"  
Aragorn: _Bleep_ "Sword."  
Legolas: _Bleep_ "Bow."  
Gimli: _Bleep_ "Axe."  
Boromir: _Bleep_ "Other sword."  
Sam: _Bleep_ "Me!"  
Merry and Pippin: _Bleep_ "Us!"  
Elrond: _Bleep_ "Nine."  
Pippin: _Bleep_ "Great."  
Elrond: _Bleep_ "Done."

* * *

Elrond, Gandalf, and Aragorn waited until everyone else had left to caucus amongst themselves. 

"Well, so it is. Nine shall set out from Rivendell, the hobbit with the Ringtone," Elrond mused slowly.

"It was a wise choice. The Tone couldn't have a better bearer," Gandalf replied.

"The path he will take is longer, larger, and more arduous than…" Elrond paused, searching for a fitting metaphor.

Gandalf had one. "Your forehead?" he suggested.

Elrond just glared. "Your nose, perhaps."

"How about both combined?" Aragorn suggested, slightly amused at the mental image.

"At any rate, not just anyone can do it," a rather annoyed Elrond followed up.

"It's a good thing we didn't choose just anyone," Gandalf replied, staring vacantly where Frodo had been sitting.

* * *

Frodo left the meeting with a heavy heart. He was just beginning to realize what he agreed to, and he was having doubts about whether or not he was up to the task. However, a familiar figure sitting on a bench bent over a book startled him, pushing his morbid thoughts far from him. 

"Bilbo!" he cried.

Bilbo looked up and smiled. "My dear boy! How have you been?" he exclaimed.

"Actually, not so great. I was mortally wounded by the most feared creature on the face of the planet and have to go face hordes of enemies and almost certain death with only eight other people," Frodo explained.

"Good, good!" Bilbo said warmly, putting his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Come, I have something to give you."

Frodo wondered if his uncle's hearing was what it used to be, but he never was one to turn down free stuff. Instead of explaining the gravity of his situation, he smiled condescendingly and followed his uncle to his room.

Upon reaching his room, Bilbo scuttled over to a large chest at the foot of his bed. "Here!" he exclaimed, pulling out a small gray canister and handing it to Frodo, bubbling over with excitement. "Take it, take it!"

Frodo took it and eyed it over. Elvish lettering covered both sides, and a small button and a smaller hole sat menacingly atop the can. He almost dropped it when it began to glow blue, but he caught himself in time, looking at Bilbo for an explanation.

"This is Sting! It served me well on my adventures, and may it serve you well in yours. You aim the hole at whatever you want to go away, press the button, and away it goes! It is commonly known as pepper spray, but I think 'Sting' has a certain ring to it. Don't you? Anyway, it used to glow blue whenever dorcs drew near, but the dorc sensor has since broken. Now it just blinks. There are those who claim it is to the rhythm of the Star Wars theme, but I for one never looked that closely." The old hobbit giggled in excitement.

Frodo was unable to get a word in edgewise throughout his uncle's entire spiel, so he just smiled and nodded, pocketing his new stuffs.

But Bilbo wasn't done. He reached back into the chest and pulled out a large, pink, heavy-looking vest. "Look! Isn't it beautiful? Here, here, try it on!"

Frodo dubiously eyed the pink monstrosity. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's a Kevlar vest. Made by the Elves out of the finest dwarven Kevlar." He sighed dreamily.

Frodo tried it on to make his uncle happy. He felt ridiculous. "Do I have to keep the bunny hood?" he asked nervously.

"No, no. There's a little pouch you can tuck that into. It'll help you on your quest. You never know what will happen."

Frodo wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen if he went around in his pink vest, but he knew a Kevlar vest would undoubtedly come in handy. He lifted it over his head and tightened it, convincing himself he could wear it under his other clothes. His shirts were too big, anyway.

As Frodo was struggling with his vest, Bilbo noticed the golden cellular phone clipped to Frodo's belt. "My old phone…" he said dreamily. "I would much like to hold it again."

Frodo stopped fiddling with his vest and slowly backed away.

Sensing that he would be rejected, Bilbo became furious. He reached forward, hissed, and did his best Nick Nolte mug shot impression.

Frodo turned and almost ran out of the room when he heard Bilbo sobbing. "Oh, Frodo, I'm so sorry. Will you please forgive me?"

Frodo, although still a bit frightened, found that he could not remain angry with the old man.

"Here, I'll make it up to you. Come with me. I want you to see something," Bilbo said, beginning to get excited again.

Frodo removed his new vest and followed, unsure of what to expect.

* * *

Night was falling, and bright neon signs lit up many parts of Rivendell. Frodo found the whole business a bit overwhelming, but he just followed Bilbo. After much wandering, they found themselves in front of a large building entitled "Arrie-kay's Araoke-kay Arty-pay." 

"What is this place?" Frodo asked incredulously.

"It's a karaoke club," Bilbo exclaimed. "Don't worry; they're much better than the ones in the Shire. These Elves really know how to sing."

Frodo was a bit dubious. He still had bad dreams about the time he braved to enter the Shire's only karaoke studio. But he trusted Bilbo, so he followed him in.

The atmosphere was very much like that of a coffee house. Large, overstuffed, comfortable chairs were placed randomly throughout the room surrounding small, round tables depicting images of important people. He and Bilbo found a large, squishy sofa far away from the speakers and sat down.

Many Elves came up to sing, and most of them were quite good. Only a few of the songs were in pure Elvish (hey, you try singing in pig latin), but those that were had a haunting, magical tone to them.

There were many songs of nature,

_I see skies of blue... clouds of white,  
Bright blessed days...dark sacred nights,  
And I think to myself...what a wonderful Middle-Earth._

of love,

_Don't care who you are,  
__Where you're from,  
__What you did,  
__As long as you love me._

and of both.

_Let me tell ya 'bout the birds and the bees,  
And the flowers and the trees,  
And the moon up above,  
And a thing called "Love"_

There were tales of great Elvish kings,

_He's quick! He's funny!  
__He makes me lots of money!  
__Gil-galad! Gil-galad!_

and of high adventure beyond the sea.

_Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,  
A tale of a fateful trip.  
That started from this tropic port,  
Aboard this tiny ship.  
The mate was a mighty sailin' man,  
The skipper brave and sure.  
Five passengers set sail that day,  
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour…_

And the topics of some philosophers philosophize about to this day.

_Bye, bye Miss Gondorian Pie,  
__Drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry,  
__An' them good ol' he-Elfs, drinkin' whiskey and rye,  
__Singin' this will be the day that I die,  
__This will be the day that I die._

The melodious Elves, the warm, stuffy room, and Frodo's weariness caught up to him. He curled up into a ball, purposely ignoring the sign over the entrance that read "Ease-play eep-kay our-yay oes-shay off-hay e-thay urnature-fay," and fell asleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, Glorfindel sat in a gazebo looking wistfully at the Rivendell scenery. He usually visited the karaoke club on a nearly-daily basis, but he didn't feel up to it this evening. Legolas, who happened to pass by, noticed the other Elf in his forlorn state. 

"Glorfindel? What's wrong?"

"Oh… well, it's not much, really. It's just that… Arwen tried to steal my job earlier today. I managed to stop her this time, but there's a movie coming out soon. I only know of this from the talk of others, and it wasn't easy. They don't mention it when I'm around. I think the movie's not including me, but giving Arwen a rather large part."

"Arwen? Can she act?" Legolas pondered.

"Not really. There was competition, but it all seems to have disappeared. Anyway, I suspect the part she will get is mine. It's a bit depressing, actually. After all I do, the majority of people won't know or care of my existence.…" Glorfindel sighed.

"Cheer up, Glorfindel. Always look on the bright side of life. This could be a good thing," Legolas comforted.

Glorfindel looked up. "How would you know? You're in the movie! You have _fangirls!_"

"You have fangirls, too," Legolas smiled.

"I do? What do you mean?"

"Truly obsessed female book-fans will notice your absence and the fact that Arwen, one of the most minor characters in the book, took your place. They will get so mad at that fact that they'll start to love you. And while, I'll admit, I get the majority of the fangirls, yours are the ones who are true to the books. I'm actually rather jealous," Leggy explained.

"Do I get a cute pet-name like yours?" Glorfindel queried.

Suddenly, a brown-haired girl decked out in camouflage gear and clutching a camera, a notebook, and a well-worn dog-eared English-Elvish dictionary jumped out from the bushes. "Glorfy!" she squeaked.

Glorfindel blinked, smiled, and got up. "Hello. I am Glorfindel of Rivendell. Would you like a signature?"

The girl nearly fainted.

Legolas smiled at the pair and shook his head. _Some people are satisfied with so little…_ he mused as he wandered off.


	11. The Ringtone, the Plot, and the Level of...

Author's note: Just for all yall's knowledge, enlightenment, and beauty, I'm going to permanently change my pen name from ArcticWolf489 to ArcticWolfe. I think ff . net does everything automatically, but if there's anything you need to change, I'll turn back to ArcticWolfe next Wednesday or so and you can change it then.

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER THREE – THE RING, THE PLOT, AND THE LEVEL OF INTEREST GO SOUTH

The next morning, Elrond gave the newly-formed Fellowship two Hondas and two radios.

"Hey, look; we're all in one Accord!" Merry observed over the radio.

Speeder, in the other car and in control of the other radio, made the rimshot noise.

"Two Accords, actually," he added after some prodding by his companions.

"Take the radio _away_ from the hobbit," Speeder returned.

Boromir, who was driving the car that included the hobbits, quickly obeyed.

"Head count," Speeder added.

Boromir counted heads. "Five—including me."

"Four here," Speeder said. "Let's go."

* * *

Shortly after leaving Rivendell, the two Accords found themselves wandering through a seemingly-endless farmland. The bales of hay wrapped in white plastic in protection from the rain particularly confused Pippin.

"What are those?" he asked incredulously.

Boromir, unaware that innumerable similar comments would spill out of the hobbit as the trip wore on, decided to answer. "It's a marshmallow farm," he stated.

"A marshmallow farm?"

"Yes. See all of those big marshmallows growing in that field? Once they're fully grown, they'll cut them up into smaller marshmallows and sell them in stores."

"Really?" Pippin gasped in amazement.

Boromir just snickered and let it go at that.

There was a lot of long, boring driving that was frequently punctuated by restroom requests by Pippin coupled with food and gas stops. Even with warm cars and heat in the cars, the fellowship was unusually cold, possibly from the weight they carried. It seemed to cast a chill over them, causing them to feel as though they were stuck inside _The Day After Tomorrow_.

"Look, Merry!" Pippin lunged across the seat and excitedly pointed to a horned animal that was grazing lazily thankfully on the other side of the window from Pippin. "It's a cantaloupe!"

"Pip, I think you mean _antelope_," Merry corrected patiently.

"_Oy vey,_" Boromir muttered.

Pippin had so many more insightful sentiments that eventually he got Boromir aggravated enough that he got on the radio and begged Aragorn to trade places with him. Aragorn obliged, as he was used to the hobbit's bizarre statements.

* * *

They had been traveling for two weeks when the weather changed. It had been overcast, rainy, and generally skucky, but now the sun came out. It was a welcome change.

That morning they lit a fire and cooked breakfast. They discussed politics, philosophy, religion, sports, and other insignificant topics.

"The Vertically Enhanced are going all the way this year," Boromir proclaimed.

"Mmm-hmm," Aragorn shook his head. "My money's on the Indigenous Peoples. You know how long it's been since the Vertically Enhanced won anything? Eighty-six years."

"No one in Gondor doesn't." Boromir picked up a piece of bacon. "I still remember the last time they even got to the Superbowl. They were about to win when Bucknerond scored a touchdown in the wrong end zone."

Sam tugged Boromir's sleeve. "Not to interrupt, Mr. Boromir sir, but what's that?"

Boromir squinted at the horizon.

"It's nothing," Gimli announced dismissivly. "Just a wisp of cloud."

"But it's moving against the wind," Legolas countered.

Aragorn stood up, all talk of football forgotten. "Hide!" He ushered everyone into a crevice in the rock. Sam watched the flock of crows swoop down, eat what remained of the Fellowship's breakfast, and leave. Once they had left, Aragorn rose.

"The Enemy has many spies," he said quietly. "We must put out the fire and move on."

* * *

Move on they did. They took backroads Aragorn said would hide them from the Enemy's spies. None of them had any clue how he knew which roads to take, but he hadn't been wrong yet, so they (with an unnamed exception) said nothing.

There were few other happenings of interest for that day. The air got colder and there was more wind. When the company stopped for dinner at a Lembas King, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf sat together to discuss plans, huddling over the Mapquest on Gandalf's PDA for guidance.

"Redhorn Gate is watched, I believe," Gandalf said, pointing it out with his stylus. "We must seek an alternate route."

"Weatherchannel . com says that snow is coming our way," Aragorn added.

"We will need to take the top of the pass," Gandalf sighed. "The danger will be great, but not as great as being spotted by the Enemy."

"I know something of the Mountains," Boromir volunteered. "It is quite cold up there. I saw a Foggy Mountain Sports store on this road. It might do us good to get some cold weather gear."

* * *

The Fellowship did so before setting out. They found that Boromir was right. The pass, called Cardahras, was frigid. Indeed, the Accords' heating systems could not keep up. All were bundled in their FMS gear.

"I wish the snow would go to Hobbiton, where it would be appreciated," Sam grumbled.

In the other car, Gandalf speculated as to whether the wretched weather was a tool of the Enemy.

"If it is, his arm has grown long," Boromir muttered.

"It has grown long indeed." Legolas stated.

Gimli snorted. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Just then, the engine in their Accord sputtered, coughed, wheezed, panted, rasped, and breathed with difficulty until it finally in the frostbitten car on the frostbitten road traversing the frostbitten terrain.

"Now what?" Gimli complained.

"If this engine is dead, the other car's must be close. We won't make it anywhere," Legolas observed. Gimli just grunted.

Gandalf pulled his PDA. "This map says that there's an autobody shop—Sun's Auto Repairs—a few miles away, but not by way of the road. One would have to go through deep snow for a long time if he was to get there."

Legolas's face brightened. "I can go. I bought snowshoes along with winter clothes at FMS, so I should be able to make it." Without further ado, he hopped out, grabbed his snowshoes out of the trunk. "Farewell!" he called to Gandalf through the glass windows. "I go to find the Sun!" And with his new snowshoes firmly attached to his slender feet, he tromped through the snow in the general direction of the repair shop.

Within a few hours, he had returned. The mechanic had listened to Legolas's story as to what had happened and he knew what was wrong. He gave Legolas several intricate-looking parts to replace their dead corresponding parts in the engine. Fortunately, Boromir had some experience with auto repair and Merry knew a sick amount of information about cars in general, so with the trio's collaboration, they replaced the faulty parts in both engines.

"The mechanic said that these repairs would only bring us about one hundred miles in this weather, and after that the cars would be unable to restart." the Elf reported.

"That would get us less than halfway to where we need to get," Gandalf observed with great sadness. "It looks as though our only way is back."

"Good!" Gimli and Boromir exclaimed in unison. Yet, somehow, it did not seem like a good omen. The Fellowship turned around and drove back, reaching relatively decent weather by that evening.


	12. A Road Trip in the Dark

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER FOUR – A ROAD TRIP IN THE DARK

Night fell like a bad power-point presentation. When they finally halted, they were very weary. The group set up its new tents and blew up its new Aero beds.

"We cannot go out again tonight. We are weary and in horrible need of stretching," remarked Gimli.

"Then what are we going to do?" Frodo asked.

"We must ramble on if we are to finish our task; otherwise we must turn tail and run back to Rivendell," Gandalf insisted.

"Everyone would laugh at us if we went back now!" Frodo objected. "We'd be all over the news!"

"True. To go back would be to admit defeat and accept worse defeat later. The Tonewraiths would come for it soon." Gandalf mused.

"Then we must go on, if there is a way," Frodo sighed.

"There is a way," Gandalf said slowly, "but it is a decidedly unpleasant route."

"Well, what is it then?" Pippin Scottishly inquired.

"The Mines of Microsoft," Gandalf stated.

Gimli looked up excitedly, but the others were attempting to recover from a creepy-crawly feeling.

"The road leads to Microsoft, but how do we know that it leads _through_ Microsoft?" Aragorn philosophized.

"Microsoft is a name of ill-omen," Boromir explained. "I do not see a need to go in there. It is said to be full of conflicting information, causing one to crash beyond all hope each and every time he tries to do even the simplest thing. I say we should go south to the Gap of Rohan. The people really like me there, probably because their princess is into my brother."

"That's a rumor!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"Does that mean it can't be true?" Boromir taunted.

"_Anyway…_" Gandalf intrusively interrupted.

"Or we might go around and cross the Isen into Langstrad and Lebonin, and so come to Gondor from the west coast, dude," Boromir added.

"Things are different since you came north, Boromir," Gandalf replied. "Do you remember what I told you about Saruman?"

"No," Boromir stated. "What?"

Gandalf sighed, muttering "He's worse than Pippin!" and clearly forgetting that a few lazy, irresponsible persons who shall remain nameless didn't get around to putting that part in. "To make a long story short, he went bad. He's in cahoots with the other guys now. I may have some dealings with him before this is over."

"Oh. I see," Boromir mused.

"The Ringtone must not go near Isengard, and the Gap of Rohan is leaking again. One would think that after all the money the government threw in that the tunnels would actually work…." Gandalf commented.

"It's flooded? Again?" Legolas queried.

Gandalf nodded sadly. "Sadly, I see no choice but the Mines of Microsoft. That is the route that the Enemy will least expect us to take."

And much more long, boring talking transpired, resulting in an official consensus in the route of the Mines of Microsoft.

* * *

Once many long, boring hours in the car had passed, they arrived at the Mines of Microsoft. After a bit of exploration, wandering, and general lostness, Gandalf found a dust-covered computer screen and keyboard. He gently blew some of the dust off the keys and pressed the spacebar. The screen slowly came to life, revealing a message box containing two text boxes that were labeled— 

User name: mines00

Password:

Gandalf tentatively tried a password. A thinly veiled threat to shut down completely disguised as an error message assailed him. Grumbling, he clicked on the button marked "Password hint." Yet another message box: "Type, friend, and enter."

"What does that mean, 'Type, friend, and enter?'" Merry asked.

"Well, it's quite simple. If you're a friend, you type in the password and enter," Gimli explained.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Pippin commented.

"He asked…." Gimli grumbled.

Gandalf looked hurt, as though someone had stolen his line (even though it was far more logical to have Gimli explain the whole deal, being related to the guys who put it in and all). He shortly recovered, however, and began tapping at the keyboard.

"Do you know the password, Gandalf?" Legolas asked.

"No, but I have a few educated guesses," he explained.

"How educated?" Pippin wondered.

"Oh, I'd say about undergraduate level. Or perhaps the second grade, depending how you look at it," Gandalf answered helpfully.

The other eight decided that they really didn't want to look at it in the first place, so they let Gandalf do his thing.

After two hours, however, they were beginning to think that Gandalf's guesses either had connections or had dropped out, because, for all of their education, they were not exceedingly smart. The ninesome was still stuck outside of the mines; the guesses didn't work.

"It's not working," Gandalf sighed in exasperation.

"What are you going to do?" Pippin inquired timidly.

"Knock your head against this screen, Peregrin Took!" Gandalf bursted. "And if that doesn't work, at least I'll have peace from these foolish questions and be able to figure out the password!"

"Then what have you been doing for the past two hours?" Pippin returned.

"All I could to keep myself from knocking your head against this screen, that's what!" Gandalf fumed.

Merry suddenly stood up. "I've got it!"

Frodo had jumped up a half second later. "No, I've got it!"

"What have you got?" Gandalf sighed.

"The password!" Merry and Frodo shouted in unison.

"I get to say it!" Frodo shouted.

"You get to do everything! It's my turn!" Merry retorted.

"Oh, no, it isn't!" Frodo shot back.

"Oh, yes, it is!" Merry exclaimed.

"Nuh-uhh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uhh!"

"Uh—"

"Speak, one of you!" Gandalf thundered.

"It's 'friend'! The password is 'friend' in Elvish!" Merry panted, ducking to miss an angry blow from Frodo.

"Isn't that what Elvis speaks?" Pippin wondered.

"NO!" eight annoyed voices boomed in reply.

Gandalf looked pensive. "Naturally," he commented, almost amused. He turned around and typed "Iend-fray" into the computer (or so the others assumed, as all they saw were asterisks). A door slowly slid open, revealing a hallway into the mines, and the 32 amigos passed through. Suddenly, a gurgling noise came up from behind them. A particularly sadistic giant squid came out of the water and tapped on the keyboard. The door slammed shut behind them. Boromir ran over to attempt to reopen it, but he found it was locked and impossible to force. "Drat," he commented. "We're committed."

"I was committed once," Merry commented.

"I never would have guessed," Pippin snorted.

"You should be committed," Merry retorted.

"But we are committed," Pippin replied.

"Moving on," Gandalf interjected, attempting to move on. "It appears as though we are committed."

"I was committed—" Merry started.

Aragorn put a heavy hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "We know."


	13. The Bridge of Gesundheit

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER FIVE– THE BRIDGE OF GESUNDHEIT

Our heroes began to walk down the twisting corridors of the Mines for a long, boring amount of time. Boromir's earlier statements appeared to be true. Even Gandalf was getting a bit disoriented, almost getting the group lost several times. Unless they stayed close together, the members of the party would start going in different directions. They eventually stopped in a small room to regroup and try to sort out where they were going.

"I don't understand why the computers weren't any more helpful," Gimli commented.

"This is no longer a mine," Boromir answered, twisting a laptop in the room to face his dwarven compadre. "It's a tomb."

And it seemed to be the case. Every single computer in the mines either couldn't turn on or displayed the Blue Screen of Death and couldn't turn off. With a cry, Gimli ran around the room, checking every single computer.

"What happened?" Sam queried.

Throughout this whole dialogue, Pippin wandered backward through the room. He finally found a red lever marked "Pull". Much to the chagrin of Mr. and Mrs. Took, Pippin had always wanted to be in _Alice in Wonderland_, and he saw this as his big chance. He pulled and waited to grow, shrink, or something. Instead, however, a high-pitched buzzing that sounded like his alarm clock on steroids reverberated throughout the building.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf exclaimed.

"It said 'Pull'!" Pippin tried to defend himself.

Before Gandalf could rebuke Pippin any further, a loud _thud_ sounded in the hallway shortly followed by the pitter-patter of little feet.

"From what it sounds like," Boromir mused, "we managed to hole ourselves up in the smallest, weakest, most-difficult-to-defend place in the mines while innumerable dorcs and a cave troll attempt to break in and kill us. I'd say there's a 5 chance that one of us gets out alive. But I have good news," he added.

"What's that?" Legolas asked.

"I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico!" Boromir finished proudly.

"Speaking of which… where are the cars?" Merry asked.

Aragorn and Gandalf looked around innocently. "Uh…"

Before anything else could happen, the door began to shake on its hinges.

"Uh-oh," Pippin stated.

"Big uh-oh," Gandalf agreed.

And much long, boring fighting transpired, resulting in a dead cave troll, a significantly lower number of dorcs, and the discovery that Frodo liked to wear pink Kevlar undershirts that, although even Legolas now thought of him as a girly-man, saved his life. The nine raced out of the room.

"Wait!" Gimli cried. "What about Balin?"

"He's not important," Legolas said.

"What do you mean, he's not important?" Gimli responded.

"He's… dead," Aragorn exclaimed.

And with much lamenting on Gimli's part, they continued on.

* * *

Aragorn picked Frodo up, and the remaining eight ran on.

"Why are you picking me up?" Frodo inquired.

"You're hurt… well, you're not hurt, but you should be hurt, so I'm picking you up," Aragorn asserted.

Frodo still didn't get it, but he decided he'd go with it.

"Go down the escalator!" Gandalf commanded. "Wait for me at the bottom!"

They obeyed. Of course, there was some confusion as to whether this was an "up" or "down" escalator. In the Mines of Microsoft, nothing really worked the way it ought. This was all quickly cleared up, however, and they piled onto the escalator. When they looked back, they saw nothing except the light on Gandalf's staff.

When the Company got off the escalator, they saw a short set of stairs.

"Look! There is the bridge!" Legolas astutely noticed.

"Here comes Gandalf!" Pippin squeaked.

The gray-haired sorcerer appeared. "Yes, I am here."

"Did you figure out what was going on?" Gimli asked.

"I'm not sure," Gandalf said. "When I stood there, I could hear dorc-voices on the other side. I don't know what they were saying; they appeared to be speaking in their own ghastly language. All I heard was: ' 007 /-1)'."

"What does that mean?" Legolas asked.

"Kool-Aid!" Gandalf bellowed. "We must get to the bridge!"

"Which bridge?" Merry wanted to know.

"The Bridge of Khazad-Dum," Gandalf replied.

"Gesundheit," Pippin wished.

"Didn't we see that bridge on _Engineering Marvels_ once?" Sam asked Frodo.

As they approached the bridge, however, he began to think that it was _Engineering Disasters_.

"Oh, no!" Boromir said. The Bridge of Khazad-Dum was twisting and rolling in the wind (which, as we all know, is very dangerous in the mines) as though it was the star of a bad adventure movie.

No one wanted to be first. Then Aragorn looked backward and saw a dark red light. "What's that?"

"Kool-Aid," Gandalf muttered. "I wonder what they meant." Then, louder, he announced, "We must cross the bridge!"

Everyone got down on his (or, for the politically correct among us, her, although that would be rather unnecessary as there were no females in our e-community) hands and knees and began to crawl. Aragorn led the pack, and Gandalf was the caboose, because, as you well know, he will soon become… dead.

As they were halfway across the topsy-turvy bridge, they saw something come up behind them. They weren't entirely sure what it was, but it looked like a giant red pitcher. It was almost man-shaped, and a power and a terror seemed to exude from it.

"Ai, ai! A Kool-Aid Dude! A Kool-Aid Dude has come!" Legolas shrieked like a she-elf.

All the Fellowship scrambled for the other side, but speed was a rare commodity as the bridge was dancing the Watusi.

The first eight reached the other side, but Gandalf stopped in the middle. Somehow, he managed to stand on the galloping bridge.

The Kool-Aid Dude advanced. Gandalf stood his ground, leaning on his staff with one hand and holding Clamdigger, his sword, in the other.

For several paragraphs, the Kool-Aid Dude stood there with a goofy grin and winked. It was enough to wrench the hearts of the most daring of souls, but Gandalf stood firm.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf expostulated.

The Kool-Aid Dude smiled and winked again, stepped onto the bridge, and said, _"Ohhhhhh, yeeeaah."_

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf repeated. "I have lots of funny, bizarre, strange, and unusual credentials with which you cannot contend with. YOU… SHALL NOT… PASS!"

Gandalf thrust his staff downward. Due to an engineering disaster, the bridge cracked.

"Oops," Gandalf said.

The bridge collapsed, and both Gandalf and Kool-Aid Dude fell into oblivion. But Gandalf had one last piece of advice.

"MAKE LIKE A TREE AND GET OUT OF HEEEERE…."

The remainder of the Fellowship was so bereft that they didn't even notice the mixed metaphor. They made like a tree and got out of there.

And much long, boring crying transpired.


	14. Lothlorian Abridged

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTERS SIX, SEVEN, AND EIGHT– LOTHLORIAN ABRIDGED

After leaving the mines and driving around a bit, they found themselves at the Eaves of the Golden Wood.

"How did our cars get to the other side of the mines?" Pippin wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Aragorn said quickly.

Gimli peeped out the window nervously. "There is an Elf-Witch, they say," he began darkly. "She sits in the trees with her giant blue ox and lassoes tornadoes. She wears a coon cap and a flannel shirt and overalls, none of which ever get dirty or smelly. She has the fastest draw in the…erm…." He pulled a map from the side of the door to figure out where they were.

"Region?" a bemused Boromir supplied.

"…Region," he finished, disappointed that he could come up with nothing better. "Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I am like Big Brother. I _am_ Big Brother! I see everything. I know all."

Suddenly out of nowhere, a customs booth popped up in front of them. The two men who were driving the cars screeched them to a halt as a blond-haired girly-man Haldir-named elf came up to their window and began to ask questions. Boromir immediately became quite confused, but fortunately Legolas could translate.

"Ere-whey are-hay ou-yay om-fray?" A blond-haired girly-man elf who had come up to their window asked.

"Where are we from?" Legolas translated.

As everyone was from someplace different (if we pretended for a moment that the hobbits were all one being), this answer resulted in many long boring minutes of mass confusion.

"Ow-hay ong-lay o-dat ou-yay an-play o-tay e-bay in-hay e-thay Olden-gay Ood-way?"

"How long will we be here?"

"Long enough to turn this dump into the most beautiful mines Middle-Earth has ever seen!" Gimli extrapolated.

"We're just passing through," Boromir stated, glaring at the dwarf.

"Ot-nay ong-lay." Legolas declared nervously.

"Any-hay eapons-way?" the guard asked.

"Weapons?"

"Every type ever invented for a fantasy story," Boromir stated.

"Ot-nay any-may," Legolas responded.

"Agriculture-hay?"

"Fruits or veggies?"

"All the fruits around here are outside the car!" Gimli half-exclaimed, half-snickered, his face beginning to pinken a bit at all of his shouting.

"Ust-jay im-hay," Legolas stated, unobtrusively nodding to the dwarf.

"At's-whay in-hay e-thay unk-tray?"

"All-hay our-hay uff-stay." Legolas knew the answer to that one.

"Other-hay ar-cay ith-way ou-way?"

"Up-yay."

Gimli was getting rather frustrated at understanding none of the conversation. "Speak words we can all understand!" he demanded.

Haldir stopped jabbering and looked at the diminutive creature. "We have not had dealings with the dwarves since 9000 BFBGC (Before Fatty Bolger Got Caught)."

"And you know what this dwarf says to that?" Gimli bristled, searching for words in his native dwarven tongue. "I farteth in thy generale directione!"

Haldir just glared at Gimli. Aragorn, who had left the hobbits' car a short while earlier to determine the cause of the holdup at customs, leaned through the open window and hissed into the dwarf's ear, "That was very rude, crude, and socially unacceptable." The dwarf just grunted.

After further discussion of that ilk and far more haggling, bickering, and bartering, Haldir decided to let them in.After leadingthem through the myriads and plethoras of trees and interesting foliage until they reached Lothlorian Proper, he assembled them in front of a large edifice that vaguely resembled a prominent historical structure of the reader's choice. "Hang out here until the Lady Galadriel has finished beautifying herself," he instructed.

"Beautifying herself?" Sam asked.

Haldir regarded him quizzically. "What, do you think being the most beautiful creature in Middle-Earth comes naturally?"

Sam had no argument for the girly-man. A few minutes later, Galadriel and Celebron appeared from within the said structure. After looking over the travelers, Lady G spoke.

"Eight there are, yet nine set out from Rivendell. Perhaps Elrond's math is fuzzy again," she stated gravely.

"No, Gandalf was with us. He is now…dead," Aragorn explained in a rather macabre fashion.

Celebron looked puzzled. "What do you mean, he's dead?"

Aragorn sighed in annoyance and declared morosely, "The spark of his life is smothered in shades. His spirit is gone but his stench remains. Does that answer your question?"

The Elf-king nodded. "I get it now. Thanks for clarifying."

The Elf-queen cleared her throat impatiently, which was the cue for the important people to go off and caucus for a long, boring amount of time. The less important people were left to sit around and mope over Gandalf, because, after all, he was…dead. Finally, the eight who remained rented two large rooms at the Double Hotel and called it a night.

* * *

At some ungodly hour of the morning, Frodo woke to much carousing outside his room. He wondered over to the door in his blue plaid pajamas and slunk into the hallway. The Lady Galadriel was mincing down the hallway in her nine-inch-tall cork platform shoes. A brief glance down the corridor revealed a rather substantial hole in the drywall that had not been there earlier in the evening. Judging by the size and shape of the hole, he deduced that he was awoken to the sound of Galadriel falling into his wall. Curious as to what she was doing in the hotel at this time of night, he followed her down to the lobby. It was deserted, and even the obligatory hotel-lobby fountain was not running. The Lady had moved over to a discreetly hidden panel in the wall, and suddenly, with much _vrrr_-ing, _wawawawa_-ing, _llllll_-ing, and _woosh_-ing, streams of water began to gush from various spouts on the fountain.

"Oh, goodness. I keep meaning to clean that," Galadriel muttered as the _vrrr_-ing, _wawawawa_-ing, _llllll_-ing, and _woosh_-ing tapered off. Turning to Frodo, she added, "Will you look into the mirror?"

"Looks more like a fountain to me," Frodo observed.

Galadriel just glared, cleared her throat, and repeated more loudly and clearly, "Will you look into the _mirror_?"

"Oh… sorry. Um… Mother, may I?" Frodo asked hastily.

"Yes, you may," Galadriel stated condescendingly.

"Should I?" he then inquired.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was a good idea. But then, I don't suppose I would say it wasn't. If I were you, I probably wouldn't do it; but then, if I was me, I probably would. But then…"

While Galadriel was saying both no and yes, Frodo got impatient and took a look into the fountain's gurgling water. He counted $94.62 on the pool's bottom before an image flickered into view. He could make out Times Square lit up as though it was New Year's Eve. As there was no ball preparing to drop, he assumed that it indeed was not New Year's Eve. He then spied a figure wearing a rather creepy black trenchcoat and creepier mirrored sunglasses making his way down the sidewalk. He reminded Frodo of Gandalf, although he looked nothing like them. He would have to mention that to his psychologist. The vision suddenly fast-forwarded, and suddenly he was in Bilbo's room. The old hobbit was wandering about aimlessly. He also saw the members of the fellowship at various parts in the journey. _I didn't know that Merry and Pippin knew the Macarena,_ he thought. This was shortly replaced with many terrible happenings that Frodo knew would come to pass should the quest fail. The Green Party won a majority in both the House and the Senate, and Ralph Nader was giving a State of the Union address. William Hung was giving his acceptance speech for the Grammy award awarded for the CD he produced after winning Middle-Earthen Idol. Michael Jackson became black again, and he looked about 100 times more creepy. Brittney Spears passed for real music, and the person who sings "Gollum's Song" for the credits of the LotR: TTT DVD remade every song ever written, and the new remakes were the only songs the radio stations would play. The Gondor Vertically Enhanced never won another Superbowl.

Frodo screamed in horror and fell backwards. Galadriel was finally settling for a "maybe yes; maybe no" when she saw Frodo on the ground. "Careful, there's a step there," she warned belatedly. Then, remembering what she was doing, she stood taller and her voice deepened and generally got more creepy. "I know what you have seen, for it is also in my mind. It is what will come to pass should your quest fail."

Frodo somehow already knew that, but the prospect of Ralph Nader becoming President and Michael Jackson looking any creepier than he already did frightened him severely enough that he said nothing about it. He was beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation.

"I must destroy the Ringtone!" Frodo announced brashly.

"It's not that simple, Frodo," Galadriel explained.

"Well then… you take it!" he declared.

Galadriel stared mesmerized at the golden phone on Frodo's belt. "You offer it to me freely. I must admit, I have lusted after this for a long time. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, I've got the power, uh. I've got the power! I've got the power, wa-wa-what-what, uh. I've got the power, woah-oh-oh!" After much singing, dancing, carousing, spazzing, and foaming at the mouth, Galadriel returned to normal. "I past the test," she breathed. "I will shrink rapidly, go beyond the sea, and remain Galadriel." And then they went to their respective bedrooms and hit the sack.

* * *

The next morning, the e-community packed their belongings and lined up to get free stuff. To the whole group, Celeborn gave two forest-green Avalons and a trailer in which they could schlep around their belongings. Aragorn thanked Celeborn profusely. He knew that Merry had made off with at least one of their other cars, but he didn't want to bring the matter up. Galadriel gave them eight appropriately sized L.L. Bean jackets that repel absolutely everything and keep one's body temperature at normal, no matter the temperature. In addition, they all received a copious amount of semi-cylindrical containers marked with the mysterious letters "SPAM". "With these, you will never go hungry," Celeborn explained. "Just take one bite, and you'll decide that maybe you aren't that hungry after all."

The Elf-queen moved to Merry and Pippin. "And to you, Meriadoc Brandybuck, I give the business card of Octor-day Il-phay, a renowned Elven shrink who can help you with your automobile-related kleptomania."

"I don't steal cars!" Merry yelped.

Galadriel smiled patiently. "I also give you the business card of Octor-day Aura-lay to help you with your lying problem." And she moved on before the hobbit could object again.

"To you, Peregrin Took, I give a TI-300 Plus Platinum Edition."

The young shireling looked elated. "Sweet!"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, I give to you permission to marry my granddaughter." Aragorn nodded and studied his boots.

"And to you, Boromir son of Denethor, I give a dirty look, because that is all you deserve." And the Lady Galadriel gave a rather dumbfounded Boromir a dirty look.

"To Legolas, I have this book," she said, handing the Elf a thick maroon volume entitled _Effectively Escape Fangirls Without Crushing Their Undying Devotion in Ten Easy Steps_. His eyes widened and he carefully took the book.

Next she came to Gimli. "What would the Elves have that would satisfy a dwarf?" she asked kindly. The dwarf in question cleared his throat and whispered into Galadriel's ear. She simply smiled, disappeared for a moment, and returned with a small sealed envelope that she handed to Gimli.

"To you, Samwise Gamgee, I give a travel DVD player and a collection of all the Emeril shows ever created. You may have to make some substitutions while on the road, but you should be able to make some good recipes." Sam took the bundle gratefully.

And finally, she reached Frodo. She handed him a small, long cylinder. "And to you, Frodo Baggins of the Shire, I give the LED light of Earendil. May it be a light to you in dark places when all other lights have gone out." Frodo was thoroughly confused, but he took it anyway.

Finally, the Fellowship loaded up into their new vehicles and continued their journey.


	15. The Disconnection of the Ecommunity

THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTERS NINE AND TEN– THE DISCONNECTION OF THE E-COMMUNITY

After some mucking about with swans, bows, and great peril, the E-community pulled into a rest area off the Interrealm highway for a dinner break.

"Go to the bathroom if you need to," Aragorn advised the group. "Pippin, go to the bathroom."

"But I don't have to go!" Pippin objected.

"Yes. You do," Aragorn stated coolly. Pippin stalked off glumly to the men's room.

The troop shortly found the fast-food joint that most suited them and settled down to eat. Before much else happened, Aragorn reached across the table and grabbed Pippin's trashcan-sized cup of Mountain Dew.

"Hey!" Pippin objected again. "I bought that!"

"Actually, I did, but that's beside the point." Aragorn observed. "It will make you need to go to the bathroom in a half an hour. We'll never reach Mordor at that rate."

Pippin remained obstinate. "No, it won't!"

"Pippin, everything makes you have to go to the bathroom," Merry stated exasperatedly.

"So what's the problem with the Mountain Dew?" he inquired, gesturing towards the enormous cup in Aragorn's hand.

Frodo, seeing a chance to escape the others, quietly slipped away. He was unnoticed by everyone except Boromir, who unobtrusively followed.

The hobbit made his way over to the convenience store. He found the gum rack and browsed through the labels. As he turned into the next aisle, he nearly ran into a waiting Boromir, who was looking down at him.

"None of us should wander alone in this neighborhood. You really shouldn't wander alone," he stated.

"I'll remember that," Frodo retorted blankly and moved to get past the man.

The man, however, was not about to let him pass. "You carry a heavy burden," he observed.

"The markings on the back say it's about 5 grams, but I don't suppose that's what you're getting at," Frodo replied.

"It seems like such a waste to destroy it in the boiling waters of Mt. Doom when there's so much good it could do."

"But it can't do any good! It's evil!"

"You don't know that. That's what Gandalf and the Elves have told you. The truth is, it's merely a normal MET&T telephone. With the low, low prices of their unlimited coast-to-coast minutes with free nights and weekends and no roaming charge, one could save a fortune! They don't want us to save that much. But think of how much a person—a nation—could benefit!"

Frodo cocked his head. Boromir was beginning to scare him. "Um…right. I'll just buy some Haynes and be on my way, then."

Boromir finally recognized that he would not get through to Frodo. He reached forward and tried to grab the phone from his belt. Startled, Frodo fell backwards, twisting the side the Tone was on away from Boromir. The man stumbled forward, still reaching for Frodo. Frodo looked around frantically. The only other being anywhere near was the cashier, but she was just kind of staring into space. Seeing no other option, he removed the Ringtone from his belt and, flipping it open, pressed it to his ear. He vanished.

As soon as Frodo disappeared, Boromir figured out that he was being a bum and had a change of heart. He wandered dejectedly back to the others. Meanwhile, Frodo stumbled outside and began looking for the cars.

Before Boromir got to the table, he met up with a very worried-looking Aragorn. "Boromir! When have you last seen the Tonebearer?"

"I… Just a few minutes ago, in the store," Boromir told him. Aragorn went to look. A fortuitous glance out the window told him that Frodo was in the parking lot. He ran out to see him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Could I have the keys to the first Avalon? I was going to try to hotwire it, but since you're here…"

"You're leaving?" Aragorn asked, dumbfounded.

"Nah, I was just going to Disneyearth for an hour or two."

"Really? Could you get me one of those T-shirts with one of those—"

"NO! I'm leaving! I have to go to Mordor alone."

"I would have followed you through the very ickiness of Mordor itself," Aragorn pledged.

"I know," Frodo smiled. "Be gentle on Sam. He wouldn't understand."

Aragorn nodded before he was distracted by something on the roadway. "Go!" he exclaimed and ran back to the rest area. Frodo got in and cranked the engine, but he was shaking so badly that he couldn't get the car to start. While he was still there, a large Greyhound bus pulled into the parking lot and up to the main building. After some dramatic sound effects and dry ice, hordes upon hordes of dorcs jumped out of the bus and swarmed the building and parking lot.

For those of you who are not in the know, a dork looks very much like a normal person. However, he typically carries a calculator, wears a pocket-protector containing a billion and a half pens, is clad in a white short-sleeved shirt tucked on one side into black flood pants that are almost long enough and reveal his functional black shoes and plaid socks. They also carry guns, and between that and their annoying, sandpapery laugh, they are among the most dangerous creatures in Middle-Earth. Unfortunately, they were with the bad guys. These dorcs were sent to thoroughly search the rest area for any hobbits, and Frodo happened to be in plain view. They began to descend on Frodo's revving Avalon. Just then, Merry and Pippin, who had been watching from inside, burst out into the parking lot armed with Pippin's fanciest calculators.

"Hey!" Pippin shouted. "You guys are into calculators, right? Could you show me how this works?"

All of the dorcs within earshot and a good deal many without bolted over and began fighting with each other over who had more calculator knowledge to help young Merry and Pippin. While the dorcs were distracted, Sam ran out of the building as Frodo finally got the car started. The cooking hobbit flew full-speed toward the exiting car and leaped onto the hood, shouting, "Stop the car!"

Frodo did as he was told, and Sam went flying. After collecting himself, he climbed into the passenger seat and announced, "I'm going with you." Frodo didn't particularly mind the company, so the two sped away.

By this time, one of the more ambitious and goal-minded dorcs had figured out that Merry and Pippin were hobbits and they were there to collect hobbits. They stole their calculators and locked them into the storage compartment below the passenger area of the bus.

Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas were holding their own against the hordes upon hordes of dorcs inside the building. Boromir was relieved that he was still alive and kicking.

And thus ends _The Lord of the Ringtones: The E-community of the Ringtone_. And much long, boring waiting will transpire.

* * *

Actually, it probably won't be any near as long and boring as a few other 2- and 3-month waits we've put you through, but I still need to consort with my cohorts to get a few chapters of the next book written before I post anything else. 

Oh, there will be another book. There will hopefully be two, if we're not sick of the process in a few more years. Feel free to email me or comment with ideas and such; we are very open to suggestions (and we still have no idea what we're doing about Gollum).

Who (rather, what) is this Sauron character, anyway? How many undead jokes will we be able to make about Gandalf? What will the Riders of Rohan ride, and will they rename Aragorn? Whose line is it anyway? And who put the _bop_ in the _bop-she-bop-she-bop_?

Stay tuned to find out….


End file.
